The Temporal Comedy: A Time to Heal
by Angelique Sauvegarde
Summary: As if life weren't crazy enough for Nightcrawler and the rest of the XMen, they now must face the fallout of an exgovernment agent's final mission.
1. Chapter 1

**A Time to Heal**

Kurt and Kassandra strolled hand-in-hand down Graymalkin Lane after an outing that, as Kurt was glad to see, was ending up like an excellent date as well as an evening getting reacquainted with an old friend. Okay, so the night didn't go entirely without a hitch. A segregated restaurant here, some threats to their lives there. But a couple of mutants on the town could hardly expect better. Especially when one could go from delightful to devilish in an instant, and the other only looked like a stereotypical demon.

"Kurt," said Kassandra, in her richly Namibian-accented German, "Ich hat ein wunderbar Abend. Ich enttäusche dich nicht gern, aber-"

"Liebchen, _how could you disappoint me?"_ said Kurt, as they walked up to Xavier Mansion.

_"It's not what I could do, but what I've already done."_

_"You seem ready to face the consequences."_

"Ja. _But I don't think I can adequately prepare you for this."_

"Was?" Kurt blinked, and then saw Kassandra standing en garde with her sabre ready. Of course it took her no time to retrieve her weapon. But why here and now?

"Logan! Don't!" one girl shouted from the foyer.

Kurt looked frantically to Kassandra. Nobody ever told his best friend "don't" expecting him to listen. And nobody ever tried unless he was about to do something dreadful.

"Kassandra, raus!" Kurt did not like the idea of her seeing his best friend in the throes of his feral rage.

"She damn near led you to your death!" a man roared.

"Kurt, gehst du raus!" Kassandra retorted. She didn't like the idea of such a gentle soul such as him seeing her duke it out with his best friend. Especially since such a battle would likely be quite fierce and bloody. _"He won't settle down until he faces me."_

"And I'M GONNA RIP THAT LYING HEART OUT!" Wolverine burst out the front doors, followed by a distraught Jubilee hobbling out the door. He bounded toward Kassandra with all adamantium-plated claws extended. And Kassandra dodged, parried, and retreated, but made no effort to stop the furious feral.

"Was ist los?" Kurt ported over to Jubilee, too upset to remember his English.

Jubilee was too horrified to recall that she didn't understand German. "I told him I took one of Zeitgeist's assignments before joining X-Corps, and he now blames her for- for what happened."

What happened. That fateful morning when the X-Men woke to find the consequences of not heeding warnings to improve their security. Jubilee, Magma, Skin, Bedlam, and two others, kidnapped by what Zeitgeist called "that cult" for various nefarious purposes, then crucified and left for dead on the front lawn of the Xavier Institute.

Kassandra could not keep up the fight in normal time. Wolverine fought with what amounted to three daggers on each fist, and though he wasn't much taller, he packed more than twice her weight in solid muscle and adamantium. And the ferocity of one betrayed by his Little Elf. As Kassandra stepped out of time and slowed it down, she did not need to see the timeline to know that there were only two ways to effectively stop the fight.

"Logan, you're right to be upset-"

"Save the psychobabble." Wolverine pounced upon her with his full weight and all the force he could muster in both fists. And just as Kurt decided to ignore what Kassandra had said and intervene, she parried with a strength that defied physics. Then screamed and fell over, dropping her sword as searing pain exploded in her right arm. Logan raised his fist to run his claws through her. Killing her would be easy, healing factor notwithstanding. Up through the solar plexus, and some shifting of gears could make mincemeat of her vital organs, ensuring she'd bleed to death before she'd have a chance. But he caught a look at the sudden sickly chalkiness of her face. When she was outside the normal flow of time, she could look quite ghostlike. But nothing like this. And then there were the tears. Wolverine had nothing against making blood flow. But tears were another matter. Dammit. He only meant to kill the kid, not hurt her.

And with that, she disappeared.

"WHERE'D SHE GO!"

"To the infirmary," came the well-modulated voice of Professor Xavier. "Dislocated shoulder, broken wrist, and compound humoral fracture. Hank and Annie are diagnosing it as we speak."

"Mein Gott!" Kurt teleported to the infirmary. It didn't take a medical degree to know what compound fractures could mean for someone whose bones were very quickly, in all probability, healing all wrong. And for someone who played the piano and organ to have something go wrong with her arm….

"You literally came down too hard on her, Logan," the Professor continued, "and you should count yourself lucky to still be in possession of your head and viscera."

Chuck had a point. This was a kid who had twice single-handedly KO'd Sabretooth, armed only with a couple of sticks rather than an adamantium sabre. She didn't fight full-out even then, and the first time, she couldn't even do her time warping thing without passing out.

"Now, I do believe she'll actually want to see you, after you've calmed down."

"Logan, please?" cried Jubilee.

Logan took a couple of shaky breaths. And retracted his claws. If there was one thing that he and Kassandra had in common, besides the healing factor, it was that for either one of them to be willing to extend any kind of olive branch was no small gesture.

He picked up the sword that Kassandra had left lying in the grass. "I'll see her now."


	2. Chapter 2

"So, also das ist die Stewardeß über die du immer sprichst."

"Kassi-"

"Mir ist's recht, Kurt," interrupted the strange blonde woman Kurt was trying to introduce. "Ich spreche auch Deutsch. Und du," she said to Kassandra, "mußt Kurts guter Freund Kassandra sein."

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises!"said Kurt.

"I could show you more," the girl practically purred with a wicked glint in her blue eyes.

"Um…" Kurt cast a slightly embarrassed glance Kassandra's way. Her politeness notwithstanding, she could not help looking the way she felt. Awkward. Most awkward. And perhaps a bit nauseated.

"What, lover?"

"It's all right," said Kassandra, "but if you want to tell Kurt something in my presence that I won't understand, try a language I don't know. Like maybe Romany."

"Was?" said Kurt, dismayed by the flurry of invisible daggers that suddenly flew between his best girl friend and his new girlfriend- two people that, despite their differences, he desperately wanted to get along.

Kassandra glanced over to Kurt, then cast her eyes downward. "Macht nichts, Kurt. It's nice to meet you, 'Amanda.'"

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"Was ist los, Kurt?"

"_You just had your arm broken, and you're asking me what's wrong?"_

"_Tell me. You obviously feel some need, and I need the distraction."_

"_Well, if it will help get your mind of things now, when Amanda and I were seeing each other, I recall you and she being quite testy with each other."_

"_Oh, we were. I hated her persistent and flagrant dishonesty, and she hated my hypocrisy. We had only two things in common. We both care about you in our- shall we say- different ways, and we both were right to feel the way we did. So for your sake, we ended up agreeing to keep our mutual dislike amicable."_

"_Even so, I remember this managed to strain our friendship. But I can't remember you being the jealous type."_

"_And I wasn't. Should I have been?"_ Kassandra tried to smile. And only barely managed to succeed.

"Hank, have you given Kassandra anything for the pain?" Kurt asked.

"Hang on, Adimu." Dr. Henry McCoy and nurse Annie Ghazakhanian were in video conference with Kassandra's mother, Dr. Adimu Altheim. "I just did, Kurt, right before you bamfed in here."

"It looks like it already wore off."

"I don't think it ever took," said Kassandra.

"Oh, dear."

"Kurt," said Kassandra, _"I know what you've been thinking. How on earth we manage to get along with each other when I have trouble getting along with others dear to you."_

Just then, Professor Xavier, Logan, and Jubilee all walked into the infirmary. Kurt glanced uneasily from Kassandra to Logan.

"Sei unbesorgt, Kurt," Kassandra whispered.

"I ain't gonna kill her, Elf, even if she deserves it."

"And she doesn't," Jubilee retorted. "You wouldn't let me tell you it was my own fault I didn't follow her escape plan."

"Jubes, I put you at risk even offering you that assignment, and you know it," said Kassandra. "I'm responsible. And the only one left alive who is, for that matter."

"Besides me."

"I'm not the one recovering from a crucifixion. And I didn't tell anyone you were involved. Considering how Logan sees it, venting his anger on me may not be an appropriate response, but it is perfectly understandable. And I knew he wouldn't kill me anyway. Too sensitive."

"Well, thanks kid," said Logan, scratching his head, "I think."

Jubilee threw her still bandaged hands in the air in frustration. "What kind of drug do they have you on, Kassi?"

"Nothin' strong enough for her kind of hurt," said Logan. "And I ain't just talkin' about for her broken arm."

"Which already needs rebreaking, in several places," interrupted the Beast.

"Was?" Kurt was feeling a little overwhelmed. Seeing his best friend try to kill the girl he was beginning to remember he loved was disturbing enough. For her to basically admit she had it coming, after she had predicted to Kurt something about grand jury investigations and prison time, to then see that Logan and Kassandra understood each other possibly in a way he never could, well, that just boggled his mind. Forgiveness from either of them tended to be hard earned. Of course, it was for different reasons. Wolverine, in his rage, would forget everything but the sheer burning rawness of whatever he felt at that moment. Zeitgeist, on the other hand, never forgot a thing, good or bad. She couldn't even if she wanted. Regardless, here they were. The berserker, and… and exactly what kind of person was this girl with whom Kurt was very happily lip-locked only less than an hour ago?

"And it's because you're all so sensitive that I'm afraid none of you can stay," said Beast. "We'll have to operate."

"Sorry, Logan, Jubes," said Kassandra. "Es tut mir leid, Kurt."

"Sorry, too, kid, Elf. By the way," said Logan, indicating her sword. "Adamantium or not, I just couldn't let you leave this lying around outside."

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Logan passed a haggard-looking Annie on his way back to the infirmary. He'd just spent he couldn't guess how long splitting a few cords of firewood. Finally, he decided he'd had it with waiting. He was going to look in on the Little Elf, regardless of what was going on. Seeing Annie leaving was a good sign that at least she was out of surgery.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, you'd like to know how we fixed your handiwork!" Annie said with pardonable sharpness. "She'll be fine, no thanks to you. But so help me, the next time we have to operate on an accelerated healer…." She then flounced down the hallway, muttering something about declawing and other… veterinary procedures.

Logan supposed he deserved that. He stepped into the infirmary to see Kurt and Xavier already there, sitting at Kassandra's bedside. They both looked about as worn as the rosary Kurt clutched. Kassandra, on the other hand, looked relatively peaceful, despite the fact that one arm was cast from shoulder to fingers and in traction.

Dr. McCoy was again on the line with Dr. Altheim. "Setting the shoulder was the easy part. Resetting the bones proved to be nothing short of nightmarish, however. I had to give her anticoagulants to prevent inopportune clotting, and the incisions acted like they had minds of their own, trying to close up before I was even done. Furthermore, I gave her as much anesthesia as I dared for someone her size. It didn't help at all that she woke up ten minutes into the procedure, delirious, throwing off the inhibitors, and losing all control over her time warping. I suppose she was trying subconsciously to speed up the procedure and recovery time. But of course I could not proceed when I couldn't see her properly. So my only choice was to call in Charles."

"Good thing for my sake," said Xavier, "that Kassandra's convinced this will never happen again. I hope, Logan, you share her resolve. Otherwise, you may have to take it upon yourself to track down Stacy and persuade her to return. I don't look forward to ever again serving in the place of an anesthesiologist."

Of all the people to leave the X-Men for something as stupid as a simple misunderstanding, it had to be the one person who could have handled this better than the Professor. Logan glanced over to Kurt. The Elf could not mask the expression on his face. The broodiness Logan had seen far too much of lately was back and more concentrated than ever. He then remembered that there was a reason he called the girl Little Elf. If it were this bad now, there was no telling how Kurt would have reacted if his best friend wasted the kid. Hell, Logan was pretty sure it would be about as bad as he'd end up feeling. Likely worse than how he felt when he found Jubilee out there, for all intents and purposes, dead.

"Anyway," Beast continued, "because she can't help but block telepathy when she's outside of time, I had to take a calculated risk, sedate her again and put her in restraints before Charles could get into her mind and convince her to stay out, and stop pulling off and destroying the inhibitors. Highly difficult. It's a good thing the healing factor means fewer visits to the infirmary, because true to form, nothing personal Adimu, but that same healing factor has made your daughter a terrible patient."

Logan tried, and almost succeeded, to suppress a smile. That was a universal characteristic among accelerated healers, and the fact that Kassandra got her healing factor from his stem cell donation rather than from her own genes did not make the least bit of difference. Except that he began to feel almost proud of her for becoming the latest thorn in the furball's side.

"Nothing new about that, Henry," said Dr. Altheim, with a warm smile. This was a woman who'd known poverty, wealth, oppression, pandemics, and war from a number of perspectives, tried against the odds to give her four children a normal life, and still insisted she owed all the worry lines in her forehead exclusively to her youngest daughter. "She always was the most difficult of my children anyway. Is she still under sedation?"

"No, Adimu," said Charles. "That has long since run its short course. It was not easy working with someone who can resist drugs and telepathy. But now, she's only asleep. I managed to convince her to enjoy a deep, painless sleep for the next ten hours."

"And," said Dr. McCoy, "Based on my observations, with the inhibitors now off, that should be more than enough time to put her well on the mend."

Both Kurt and Logan heaved enormous sighs of relief.

"Well, at least that's good to hear," said Dr. Altheim. "Now let's just hope she never has to use that healing factor that way again."

"Never again on my account, Elf," Logan said to Kurt. "I won't let it happen."

Kurt finally looked Logan in the eye. "I wouldn't be so sure, mein Freund. Not if you put it that way. I may not understand the way she shows it, but she does care about you."

And Logan remembered the conference Zeitgeist called with him, Jean, and Archangel before she had taken off on her last assignment. She'd take on far worse than his anger for him, Kurt, and the rest. In fact, she counted on it. But he just wished she could be a little more forthcoming about who and what all that involved.

"And, Charles," continued Dr. Altheim, "it seems you have the right idea. I'm going to prescribe a good night's rest for all of you. You've all had far too eventful a night."

Her recommendation was eagerly accepted by all but Kurt. After all said their good nights, Logan turned to him. "You especially, Elf. I can't blame you for taking this hard and for wanting to watch over her, but she will still be here in the morning."

"And Jean will look in on her until then," added Charles.

But before Kurt could leave, he looked back on Kassandra. It would be hard to rest when the image of her fighting with Logan was still so fresh on his mind. And what did Logan mean about her "kind of hurt"? But it seemed to be water under the bridge at the moment. For some reason, Kassandra looked quite placid now. What was she dreaming? He tabled his fears and kissed her smooth brown cheek. A small smile graced her sleeping face, and she breathed a contented sigh.

"Dort wollen wir niedersinken unter dem Palmenbaum, und Lieb und Ruhe trinken, und träume seligen Traum." Kurt wondered about that snippet of Heinrich Heine poetry that found itself in his head. No matter. He had a better idea of why this sort of thing had been happening lately. And it was rather appropriate. Whatever she was dreaming about, he could try to dream about the same thing. There would be no more nightmares, at least not tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

"Guten Morgen, Kassi. Es ist halb elf, und du brauchst Frühstück, nicht wahr?" said Kurt as he swept into the infirmary balancing a dangerously loaded tray on one tridactyl hand. _"I forgot what you like best, and having seen how you can eat last night, I just thought I'd bring you some of everything."_

A slightly rumpled, sleepy-looking Kassandra perked up and smiled. "Danke, Kurt. Aber…." She looked quizzically at the tray set before her, then up at Kurt, with an eyebrow raised. A sliced orange. She could handle that. Scrambled eggs. Okay, maybe. Waffles smothered American-style in butter and maple syrup.

"Was?"

Kassandra inclined her head slightly to the right. Her arm, was still coated shoulder to knuckles in fiberglass and in traction. "I'm not left handed."

Kurt smiled as he poured out a cup of coffee. "_Well, this is not how I originally had in mind serving you breakfast in bed-"_

"Kurt!"

He ducked to avoid being hit by a flying orange segment. "…aber das ist gut so, Liebchen!"

"I don't think I'll be removing that cast, come to think of it," said Beast, as he stared nonplussed at the orange wedge that landed at his feet. "First, warping in here and frightening the living digestive byproducts out of Annie, then wanton destruction of power inhibitors, and now food fighting in the infirmary. In fact, I just may need to immobilize your other arm."

"Sorry, Hank," said Kassandra, as she took a cautious sip of her coffee.

"So how is her arm?" asked Kurt.

"Ja. Meaning no disrespect, but it would feel a lot better if it weren't for that verdammtes itching."

"Well," said Beast, "based on these latest X-Rays, your troubles there will soon be relieved. When you finish actually eating your breakfast, we'll see about replacing that cast with some splints, and I've taken the liberty of setting up an appointment for you with an orthopedist in McLean tomorrow."

"Is it healing quickly?"

"Oh, yes, no problems there," Beast chuckled. "But you won't be playing the organ again by Sunday or any day if it doesn't heal correctly."

And so the rest of the morning was spent. Kurt helped Kassandra finish her breakfast. Dr. McCoy took her arm out of traction and sawed off her cast. And finally Kassandra emerged from the infirmary, cleaned up, dressed, and ready to leave, with her arm slung and swathed in splints and bandages, and her coat draped over her shoulders. Annie had apparently even made a valiant, and rather futile, attempt at getting Kassandra's hair under control. Nightcrawler offered to fly Kassi back at least as far as Washington DC. Kassandra was quite grateful. While she was normally a good pilot, particularly with her extratemporal reflexes, she never let on how nervous a passenger she could be. Kurt was an excellent pilot and even better company. The only way she could be happier was if she was in any shape to copilot.

Logan followed them to the hangar. "You know I was never any good at following doctor's orders, Little Elf, but don't follow my lead. I second everything Hank says. Stay out of fights, be careful when you time trip, and see that doctor friend of his. And Elf, take care of her. If anything bad happens-"

"Logan," said Kassandra, with just the slightest hint of warning in her voice. Nothing would go wrong. But she didn't want Wolverine entertaining the notion of indulging his violent overprotectiveness again by popping his claws at Nightcrawler. "I'm only going to Virginia, and you'll see me Sunday. Relax."

"Right, kid. Take care." He nearly enveloped her in a big, rib cracking hug, then, remembering her pinioned arm, reconsidered and patted her shoulder. Carefully.

So Nightcrawler and Zeitgeist boarded the X-Jet and strapped in. Or rather, Kurt helped Kassandra strap in before he took his seat. And once they were airborne, Kurt said, "So, _I guess this means you'll miss Alex and Lorna's wedding, _nicht wahr?"

"Ja," Kassandra replied. She paused. She wasn't sure she should tell him exactly how she felt about missing out on that, the long awaited union of Havok and Polaris. But this was related to another matter she needed to discuss. "_Kurt, how would you feel if you found out I was not entirely forthcoming with you- about your past, and about your near future, for instance. Or about mine?"_

Kurt stiffened. _"Have you been lying?"_ He had, after all, entrusted her with the task of helping him recover and make sense of his memories.

"Nein, ich hab nicht Dich belogen. _I wouldn't dare. Just keeping some secrets."_

"_Well, you told me there are some things that I'm better off not remembering. I must admit I'm still not sure I even want to remember all that was erased. And I think you said enough when you said you'd seen things most people try to block from their memories. I'm not sure it's deliberate dishonesty. Just a problem posed by your unique relationship to time, and the nature of your occupation."_

Kassandra remained silent while Kurt brought the plane in for landing, then spoke. _"I hope you remember this, Kurt. Because details of all the terrible things I've done will become public knowledge soon. And you will find out some terrible things about your own history."_

"_Like what?"_

_"If I told you now, it would completely ruin this moment. You'd either not believe me, or you'd be traumatized. Just brace yourself, and keep to your prayers." _Kassandra unbuckled her safety belt as Kurt walked over to help her up.

"Werde ich, mein' Zeitgeist," said Kurt. "_And I wouldn't want you to forget this."_ He pulled a small silver pendant out and as carefully as he could with his tridactyl hands, and thankful that Kassandra had her hair somehow pulled up in a large pony tail, fastened it around Kassandra's neck. His St. Michael medal.

Kassandra could not resist the opportunity. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him tenderly before she turned to deboard the plane. _"_Danke schön, Kurt. _Now be sure to behave yourself at Alex's bachelor party."_

"Liebchen, _when have you known me to not behave?"_

_"_Heute, beim Frühstück," said Kassandra, returning Kurt's mischievous grin.

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"Guten Tag, Herr Direktor!"

"Zeitgeist. Have a seat."

"Danke." Kassandra sat, then set her briefcase on her lap, opened it, and pulled out a couple of papers. And upset a whole lot more all over the floor.

"Here, allow me," said the director, as he helped clean up. "So what's all this?"

"Every last little thing I could gather on the Church of Humanity, including a few items regarding the raid at the Cathedral, and, oh yes, my letter of resignation."

The director was nearly floored. "Are you sure you want to do this? Since your name and your involvement in Operation Conclave were leaked, the press has run everything they could today, including those ridiculous rumors that you were behind the raid on the Cathedral. If you resign now, it will look as if you were indeed responsible."

"And if I don't, the CIA will appear responsible, at the very least for covering for me." Kassandra closed her briefcase and rose. "I suggest you look all this over thoroughly, and begin investigation immediately. Call me if you have any questions."

"Well," said the director, as he glanced through the papers, most of which was a report she had yet to submit. "I think I already have a question. What exactly were you doing with this assignment?"

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"Lucy?" Kassandra had just checked into the Washington Suites, under an alias, of course, and phoned the only person in her family she knew would be awake at that hour. Lucy was a zoologist at Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park. The brown hyenas there had been acting irregularly lately, and so, at the moment, Lucy needed to be up all hours of the night studying their behavior.

"Kassi!" Her sister practically shouted, as loudly as she dared, anyway, over the line. "Wie gehts? _Mama told me about your arm. Is it any better?_"

"Ja. Mein Arm ist in Ordnung. Aber es geht mir nicht so gut, Lucy. _Has Mama or anyone else heard anything on the news about me, lately."_

"_Nothing you haven't written, and nothing about you. _Warum?" Lucy was always a bit curious as to why her little sister would study psychology and hone her brilliant musical skills, only to become a reporter.

"Gut. _I need you to tell Mama, Michael, and Vincent before they hear it from anyone or anywhere else. It's already in the news here, and will soon be all over Namibia. You remember the 'story' I wrote on the blood diamond operation? You didn't think I took that job myself just because we're familiar with the business,_ nicht wahr? _And why do you think it had such an effect internationally?"_

"Kassi?" said Lucy, warily. She was not sure she liked how this conversation was going.

"_Journalism was just a cover, Lucy. I was with the CIA all this time. And you'll soon find out I'm under investigation for some horrible things. I've lied, stolen, leaked information, and killed people. All for the greater good, of course, and you know how much better that makes me feel," _Kassandra said bitterly.

"_What are you going to do?"_ Killed people? _Killed people!_ Lucy knew Kassandra had a bit of a temper, and, though small, was quite a scrapper, but….

"_I'm going to face justice, Lucy. Unfortunately, that will mean I won't be able to come home, at least for a very, very long time. Lucy, tell the others, _bitte_. I can't bear for them to hear it from anyone else."_

"Werde ich, Kassi," said Lucy, "und wir werden für dich beten."

"Danke, Lucy. _I hate to cut this short, but I have an important call coming in. _Tchüß.

"Hallo," said Kassandra.

"Zeitgeist, this is special prosecutor Emily Fitzsimmons. I'd like to get your testimony tomorrow. Could I fax you the subpoena now?"

So much for government bureaucracy moving slowly. "Sure. And what time do you need me there?" said Kassandra.

"9 am."

Verdammt. Kassandra would have to reschedule her doctor's appointment. And call her attorney right away.


	4. Chapter 4

"As this regards work I've done in covert operations, and as I have critical information about others under investigation, I am willing to testify on the condition that I be given full immunity," said Kassandra, to the prosecutor.

"We will take that into consideration," said Fitzsimmons. "However, you are the one under investigation, and since we did issue a subpoena, you must testify or be held in contempt."

"But of course," sighed Kassandra, putting her unmanageably tousled head in her good hand. This was the best she could hope for. And she hoped she wouldn't have to plead the fifth.

"Would you consent to a polygraph examination?"

"Yes, but if I were to commit perjury, that would not prove anything, other than perhaps my willingness to appear cooperative." Kassandra looked directly at Fitzsimmons now. "You know I've been trained to trick even the best lie detectors. Might as well save the government's time and the taxpayers' money."

"Point taken. On with the next question. We have records from St. James Hospital in Butte, Montana, that you flew two men in from the Church of Humanity who needed blood transfusions and limbs reattached. You seemed desperate to keep these men alive. Were you?"

"Yes."

"But then we intercepted a call you made to Cyclops, ordering, presumably, the X-Men to raid the Cathedral, and as you put it, 'wipe them out.' Ladies and gentlemen," Fitzsimmons addressed the grand jury, "allow me to play back the recording."

Kassandra sat strangely emotionless as the recording played.

"So do you deny ordering the raid?"

"No."

"And you knew that the deaths of the cult members would be a likely result?"

"Yes. Of course, they would have died the same way, regardless. And taken far more people down with them."

"And what of your report that you were responsible for the two men's injuries, and that you killed eleven, yourself, before ordering the raid? Is that also true?"

"Yes. It was in self-defense, to ensure no more of my operatives would die, to stem the overall loss of innocent life, and salvage my mission."

"Ah, yes, your mission. Your station chief and Director Karst agree that you were actually very effective in ensuring the safety of the Pope and no less than 40 cardinals all over the world, even at risk to your life, and at the cost of others."

Kassandra winced at that remark.

"But," Fitzsimmons continued, "while you were ordered to leave Europe once you made them aware that the mission was compromised, neither of them recall sending you to Montana. You had no orders, and no warrant, to set foot in this group's compound, and therefore, what you did there can hardly be considered self defense."

"My mission was to expose and neutralize the threat posed by the cult of Humanity. Based on my intelligence, I could not do that without going there."

"According to whom?"

"As I said, just the intelligence I had."

"Not even Charles Xavier?"

"No. He did not know about this."

"Strange, because all your records indicate that you have ties with him, and with the X-Men. What's more, we have evidence that both you and Xavier were involved in blackmailing the governor of New York and FBI Special Agent Ishikawa."

"The raid on the Xavier Institute was illegal. As were the means Ishikawa used to secure Alpha Flight's cooperation. What's more the governor was receiving campaign funding from the Church of Humanity, also illegally."

"And Xavier agreed to not disclose that to the press to keep his students. But who disclosed that information to him?"

"His attorney."

"-who is also your attorney. Did you leak that information to him?"

"Yes."

"Do you realize you leaked information about a government informant?"

"You mean the double-dealing traitor who never provided any useful information, led an illegal raid to kidnap, I mean 'forcibly remove' innocent schoolchildren, and indeed tried to sabotage my mission, and is still going about business as usual despite having been ratted out. Yes, I did. But that doesn't mean Xavier had anything to do with raiding the Cathedral."

"No," Fitzsimmons conceded, "you're right. You hadn't been dealing directly with Xavier. But this does raise some other concerns, namely, your willingness to work with mutants."

"So I'm not prejudiced. Nothing wrong with that."

"Miss Altheim, the very presence of mutants poses a threat to our national security. And do you deny that some of the operatives you've recruited had criminal backgrounds?"

"No. But I've also never recruited operatives as unreliable as Agent Ishikawa. Or Raven Darkhölme, for that matter."

The mention of the notorious mutant terrorist and double agent sent a murmur of consternation through the grand jury.

"Anyone else the government chooses to employ does not concern this investigation."

"Oh, I think it might," retorted Kassandra. "Aren't I being investigated also for slitting a certain former Interpol and X-Corps officer's throat?"

"Do you deny attacking Sean Cassidy?"

"Yes. In fact I'm glad he survived. But I was already in Montana when Raven Darkhölme herself attacked him."

"Still, that does not mean anything. You could have ordered the attack on him just as easily as you ordered the raid on the Cathedral."

"Except this time I didn't. All it took was that one threat to ensure his silence about my whereabouts. I had neither the desire nor the intention to see it carried out. Nor did I have anything to do with Frau Darkhölme, and her record in at least Germany, France, Switzerland, Namibia, and the United States bears out each of the many reasons why I choose not to. And you won't find any evidence proving that any plan you claim I had to hurt Mr. Cassidy got any further than sending that one email."

"So it's entirely a coincidence then that Mystique acted out exactly what you threatened to do, without any correspondence from you?"

"No. Of course she wants to make it look like I was behind it!"


	5. Chapter 5

Back in Salem Center, Alex's bachelor party rapidly degenerated into a disaster. The guys hired a shape-shifting stripper. And they thought it would be funny to request she look like Annie, the nurse that, at the very least, earned Alex's fond admiration since the bombing that first landed him in her care. Naturally, the joke was lost on Alex.

Then Logan opened his inebriated mouth, and suggested the stripper perform a nun act for Kurt. Kurt soon joined the guest of dubious honor in bemusement. After a few pointed words, he soon left to examine his own disturbed conscience. Would it have made a difference if Alex knew all along that the stripper really wasn't Annie? Apparently not. Should it have?

Kurt thought about Schwester Maria Boniface, who oversaw much of his first religious instruction, never caring, perhaps owing in part to her blindness, about what this boy from the circus looked like. And then about… Kassandra! And, verdammt, why should it even matter whose appearance this woman could adopt? Why should anyone try to defend her honor only when she looks like someone important to them? Why shouldn't she be treated with the same respect, just as she was? Kurt decided that it shouldn't make a difference, not to an honorable man, anyway.

He had already apologized to Alex. Perhaps he should later explain that he now better understood how he felt. But now he just needed to hear someone else's voice.

Kassandra herself had quite a roller coaster of a day. After the somewhat grueling testimony, she was lucky to get in a late afternoon appointment with the orthopedist Dr. McCoy recommended. And though her arm was still a bit sore, much to her joy, the doctor said it could come out of its sling and splints. After that, she grabbed a bite to eat, discussed more of her case with her attorney over the phone, then, anxious for a bit of exercise, walked back to her hotel. Being officially unemployed was proving to be just as hard work as the job she'd just resigned.

Once she settled in, she brewed a pot of chamomile tea, found a nice jazz station, and quickly scanned the ads for a new apartment. It was all too likely she'd need to stay in McLean for a while. And finding housing would not be very easy, especially now that Kassandra was again a private citizen. She would wish that the Fair Housing Act would be amended to ban genetic discrimination, but at this point, it didn't look like it would matter. It looked like more landlords and managers were more flagrantly disregarding that law altogether. In addition to seeing "No mutants allowed" in the ads, she began to see "No mutant libs" and even "No Catholics." Ah well. Their loss. Kassandra would almost prefer living in a Morlock tunnel to paying rent to those bigots. She circled what few options seemed best, thankful that at least the hotel couldn't be bothered to ask if she was mutant or human, Catholic or Christian, et cetera. She might have answered the same way she usually answered when people would ask if she was Black or White, which was usually along of the lines of, "Yes. Should it matter?"

She then drew a nice piping hot bubble bath. Just as she was about to set foot in the tub, her phone rang. It was from the Institute.

"Hallo?"

"Kassandra? Ist es für dich grade günstig?"

As good a time as any, Kassandra figured. She always had time for this person, especially when he sounded so dejected. And, yes, she decided she'd very much like to hear his voice as she wound down. "Ja, Kurt. Wie gehts?"

"Nicht so gut. Es tut mir leid, Kassandra. _I didn't behave myself at the bachelor party. We played a rather cruel joke on Alex, and I think you know the rest."_

Kassandra sighed. Of course she knew. Still, she would not say she told him so.

"Und jetzt bist Du enttäuscht von mir oder?"

Kassandra paused for a brief moment. There were only two other things Kurt had done which disappointed her, both of which were, in fact, considerably worse than this. Even then she chose not to write him off. After all, she had to weigh in all the good he had done, and that was considerable to say the least. And he stood by her when she'd had her own moments of stupidity, as well, like that long ago crush she had on Pyro. "Nein, Kurt," she replied. "Nicht von dir. _And after all, you were the first besides Alex to understand that it wasn't funny, _nicht wahr?"

_"I hope you haven't lost respect for the rest of the guys, Kassandra."_

Kassi sighed. _"I can't forget this happened. It's in the chronological record. I'll see it if I look at that point in your timelines. _Aber Kopf hoch, Kurt._ The same goes for all the good stuff, too. Though someone should remind Logan that I once considered joining the Dominicans before he cracks any more nun jokes."_

_"You did? I thought I remembered something about that. And feeling quite relieved that you didn't go through with it."_

"Was?" said Kassandra, teasingly. _"You have something against that order?"_

Kurt laughed. _"_Nein_. I just somehow suspect that you're not suited for that vocation."_

"Irgendwie?" laughed Kassandra. Hmm. However did he get that idea?

_"And, seriously, Kassi, I rather wish I were in McLean right now."_

"Und ich auch, Kurt. _I haven't exactly had a great day myself. But we both will have big days tomorrow. Jack and I have to gather more evidence that's been subpoenaed for the investigation, I have to find some more permanent housing, and I'll have to catch up on my music practice if I'll be any good on Sunday. And as for you, well, Alex will need all the moral support he can get the next couple days. And someone's going to have to tell Logan that my arm's all better."_

"Beßer? _And how are you celebrating?"_

"Ich bin so müde, Kurt. _After the day I've had, the only way I'm celebrating is with a pot of tea, a soak in the tub, and as soon as I hang up the phone, I'm drying off and going to bed."_

"Wirklich?"

"…!"

Of course Kassandra realized the potential effect of what she just said. Kurt could practically hear her blushing over the phone. But the longing Kurt felt returned with additional and, under the circumstances, surprisingly innocent poignancy. He actually wasn't imagining what she looked like in her current state. Well, okay, but only for a moment. But all he really needed and wanted was so much simpler and more profound, that he quickly banished that thought. _"Well, I look forward to your return, _Liebchen. _And to helping you put both of your arms to proper use again."_

"Ich auch," she admitted, smiling. _"And if all goes smoothly, I might be back in town Saturday evening, rather than Sunday morning. _Für jetzt, gute nacht. Und, Kurt?"

"Ja?" Kurt thought he could hear Billie Holiday singing "Blue Moon" in the background as he awaited what Kassandra had to say.

"Ich liebe dich noch immer."

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It was a miracle Kassandra managed to get anything whatsoever done on Friday. First, the phone wouldn't stop ringing. Kassandra only barely managed with screening the calls.

Logan called first, bless his heart. "Hey, kid. Elf just told me your arm's all better. How's the rest of ya?"

Then Mama, on the rare occasion when she couldn't speak a straight sentence in one language, crying in a frantic mix of Afrikaans, German, and her native Zulu, "Kassi, _I just spent half a day away from my patients being debriefed by Henry about how you shattered your arm fighting with Logan, and now Lucy tells me you are in more trouble, and that you've killed people! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW? Did I give you life for you to just throw it away? So help me, if I find you've been abusing your God-given talents like those Evil Mutants…."_

Lorna, aka Polaris, aka The Green-haired Bridezilla. "And Juggernaut will move the piano out onto the lawn so you can play…. What do you mean? Of course you can. After what you've done, the least you can do… you have to be back in court? … Let them hold you in contempt, Kassandra. Special session or not… Yes I'm sure it's a landmark case for mutant rights, yada yada, like I EVEN CARE right now. The other musician backed out, and I NEED MUSIC FOR MY WEDDING! … NO, I WON'T USE A RECORDING!"

Someone who just made a bad business decision. "$1,200 a month rent, $1,000 security deposit, and $700 more for pets or mutants."

The orthopedist. Kassandra's brothers. Mama again. Dr. McCoy. Mother of Bridezilla. Unknown Caller and Out of Area went unanswered. Somehow she managed to get through to her banks, her phone companies, the FBI, all the people from whom she needed additional records to bring to court. And an apartment manager and a couple of proprietors returned her calls and said nothing in particular about race, politics, or religion.

Next she had to go through all of this additional paperwork with her attorney and send it to Fitzsimmons. Finally there was the search for the apartment. Unlike Kurt, as Kassandra didn't look particularly unusual except when using her powers, she did not receive quite as much overt discrimination- on the basis of her mutation, anyway. And so she usually could get by on other people's assumptions that she was not a mutant. But she knew ethnic and religious discrimination all too well, and what she experienced really was no different. In some ways, it just compounded things.

The first she visited was a complex of several buildings. It appeared quite nice and clean, with a lot of amenities. And the manager seemed very proud of the fact that his complex housed mutants as well as non-mutants. "Now if you have any problem having mutants as neighbors, there are a whole lot of other places you can stay.

"Over here in these buildings we have our apartments for mutants and their families."

Kassandra looked down at the brochure's map of the complex. There was not just one nice large swimming pool, but two. Not one fully equipped gym. Not one Laundromat. In fact, there was at least two of everything here, it seemed. "So you still have mutants living separately?" Kassandra asked.

"Well yeah. Keeps the rest of us safe, y'know, like in the event of a sentinel attack."

"Uh-huh," said Kassandra, clearly unimpressed by the flimsy excuse.

"And, well," the manager said with a nervous laugh, "you know how those pyrokinetic kids can be, playing with fire and all that. Nice to have them as neighbors, but would you really want them in the same building?"

"I don't suppose you house the smokers separately here, too," said Kassandra dryly, "or ban residents from visiting their neighbors on the other side of the complex, right, you know, in case of a sentinel attack?"

The next complex was by no means like the first. Not exactly a slum, but it was apparent that the owners couldn't afford to be bothered about the genetics or religious beliefs of those whose rent checks and maintenance fees kept the place from becoming one. That aside, the landlady seemed friendly enough. But there was still something not quite right about this.

Kassandra requested a moment to think things over.

"Take all the time you need," she said. She then went over to the community bulletin board and started removing flyers, inwardly lamenting the fact that one of the tenants saw fit to promote right-to-life events. She wondered if that lady would feel the same if she ever was stuck pregnant with, say, a deformed or mutant baby.

"Note to self..," said the prospective tenant.

The landlady about jumped out of her skin. Where she had seen a well-educated, soft-spoken African girl, there was now this… horror, putting down unsigned papers.

"…call Mama and thank her for letting this mutant baby be born." And with that, another lease and a security deposit disappeared.

Finally on to the last one. It wasn't an apartment building or complex at all, but a family home that had a separate apartment in the basement. The owners, a kindly retired couple, decided it was for let after they'd fallen upon hard times. And when a car crash left their grandchildren orphaned and in their care, things were getting desperate. The apartment wasn't much. A studio, really. Ororo might not be able to stand it in there, but it was comfortable enough for Kassandra. The couple also had a piano in their living room that she was welcome to come up and play. And then came the kicker.

"I hope," said Mr. Slawson, "that you like the kids, and that you won't take issue with the fact that one has special needs."

"Why should I have any problem with that?"

"Well," said Mrs. Slawson, carefully, "It's just that our previous tenant left within a week after we got the kids, and we've been having such trouble finding another on account of Ben's… condition."

"Can I start moving in today?"


	6. Chapter 6

"… und die Kinder sind so süß, Kurt. _Naomi's a starry-eyed little daydreamer who I know will love _Kätchen's _stories. And she didn't want me to stop practicing piano because she had too much fun, playing ballerina. Of course, practicing was interesting with Baby Janie insisting on trying to sing along. Oh, and Janie thinks my hair tastes good."_

"Wirklich?" said Kurt. _"And all this time I only thought it smelled nice. Maybe I'm missing something. But how about the other child- the one with the 'condition'?"_

_"Ben's the oldest, and it's mostly because of him that I'm there. He has a fairly healthy fascination with superheroes, so I went ahead and told him I'm a mutant."_

_"I take it he reacted well to that."_

"Ja doch! _He began insisting that I just had to stay. And the grandparents then were interested, not fearful. They reacted no differently than when I told them I played piano. So I gave them a small display of my ability. I told them to go to the kitchen, where they found the dishes washed, dried, and put away."_

"So, ist Ben ein mutant? _That would explain why they've had trouble finding a tenant, _nicht wahr?"

"Nein, Kurt. Er hat nur Tourette's. _But I guess it's logical in some twisted way that people who hate mutants would come to regard a kid who only happens to have tics the same way."_

"Das arme Kind. _But at least it's great to know you're staying with good people. How's the legal battle?"_

"So weit, so gut._ Fitzsimmons is having trouble getting a hold of a couple of witnesses- _Raven Darkhölme und ein Nils Steiger._ And she neither can nor will prove any connection to the others who've used my code name."_

"_By the way, I wondered how you got that code name. I seem to recall it was actually a nickname first. And a rather appropriate one."_

"_It was a nickname, _Liebster. _One you gave me. Anyway, it actually helped that others used the same code name. Kept people confused about my real identity, activities, and whereabouts. And now it looks very likely that I will avoid all the totally bogus charges. That will strengthen my credibility when I go to trial on the real ones, and after today's testimony, my success there appears more likely. Also, it's bought me a little more time before that happens._"

Kurt worried about just what Kassandra considered success, but he was happy to hear about this little additional time. _"What do you hope to do with this extra time, _Liebling?"

_"Prepare to face the indictments when they come in, keep trying to smooth things over with my family, discuss with Charles how to deal with Alex and Lorna-"_

_"I am glad you weren't here for the wedding, Kassandra."_

_"And I'm glad Alex had the sense to call it off, even if he could have picked a better time to do that. It saved me the trouble of having to call in at 'speak now, or forever hold your peace.' _Aber wir schweifen ab. _Most importantly at this moment, I have time for watching _The Sea Hawk _with you. That's what you were planning, _nicht wahr?_"_

Kurt chuckled. It was great to know Kassandra had her priorities straight. "Ich kann es kaum erwarten."

"Und du brauchst es nicht, Liebster. _I'm getting off the train now, _und-"

BEEP! The call was dropped. Followed by a knock at the door.

"-und hier bin ich!" Kassandra chimed, as Kurt opened the door for her. She threw her arms around his neck. Kurt scooped her up and swung her around a couple times.

"_That's exactly what I was talking about, putting both of your arms to proper use again," _he said, finally putting her back down.

"_Oh, I thought you wanted another match of Florentine," _said Kassandra.

"Wielleicht später," Kurt replied, steering Kassandra toward the rec room. "Im Moment ist alles was ich will ein guter Film, eine Flasche Zinfandel, und dich." He put the movie in, then sat beside her. "Aber, besonders dich," he added. Kassandra had just peeled off her hooded sweat jacket, revealing a heather-colored camisole top that only someone with her slight, athletic figure could wear with perfect modesty. Still the sight of her exposed shoulders- strong enough to bear the weight of the world, yet somehow soft enough that Kurt felt it horribly wrong that they should, invited his own strong and soft touch like nothing he had heretofore imagined. Kurt's tail, which had made itself at home twined around her knee, tightened slightly.

Kassandra sighed as Kurt brushed her wild, dark curls out of the way and kneaded her shoulders and the back of her neck. _"Kurt, I think this movie is strangely appropriate, given my current circumstances. You know what the difference is between a privateer and a pirate, _ja doch."

"_One acts with the government's support, and the other doesn't."_

"_Or, as the case often is, the difference is more like the fact that it's politically expedient for governments to support one's activities and not the same activities of the other. Espionage is a lot like that. Intelligence has always been the most valuable plunder and the most powerful weapon anyway. But any spy who incurs public disfavor is on their own._"

"Ebensogut moderne Freibeuterin oder Piratin_," _said Kurt, "Du bist immer noch die selbe alte Zeitgeist, nicht wahr?"

"Kurt, im Ernst-"

"_I am serious." _He then tipped up her chin, running his other hand down to the small of her back, and engaged her red-wine mouth in a long, smoldering kiss.

And Kassandra couldn't help thinking that all the musket and cannon fire in the sea battle that unfolded on the screen- _Donnerwetter! -_even Jubilee and Gambit combined at their most powerful could not produce pyrotechnics to match this.

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"There's only one reason why any two people here would want the rec room to themselves, Jean-Paul," said Annie. "Good Catholics or not, it's a safe bet that they aren't really watching that movie."

"Still, I left a pile of economics papers in there, and I really should finish grading them," said Northstar.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." Annie turned away and headed to the dining room. "You want me to get you anything?"

"Non, merci." Jean-Paul Beaubier cautiously approached the rec room. The door was left ajar, and through that, he could hear laughter punctuated by an alarming variety of noise. While there were some people in Quebec who knew German, Jean-Paul wasn't one of them. Not that it mattered. What he heard at least sounded _tres indiscrete. _And regardless of gender or sexual orientation, he maintained a respectable disinterest in catching anyone _en flagrant delit._ But he really wanted to get some work done. And maybe tell those two to keep it down or take their _sottises _someplace more appropriate. Like Kurt's room. Or maybe, based on the noise, anyway, the Danger Room.

"Und hier kommt mein Lieblingsteil."

"Das is auch meiner. Bist du bereit?"

"Ja doch!"

THWACK! THWACK!

"ACH! Mmmmph… Kurt! Herr Wolfingham und seine Handlangere haben nie so gekämpft!"

THWACK!

"Sie haben auch nie gegen eine so schöne Gegnerin gekämpft."

Jean-Paul braced himself, entered, _et__ calvasse!_ There they were, Kassandra standing on the sofa, which was threatening to tip on account of Kurt, perched precariously on the back. Both up to nothing worse than jumping all over the furniture in an apparently unsuccessful bid to reenact the final battle with foam sabres, three of which Kurt wielded.

"Jean-Paul," said Kassandra. "Your papers are over there. And tell Annie to get her mind out of the gutter."


	7. Chapter 7

"_Well," _said Kassandra, as she and Kurt were on their way out to Mass the next morning, _"I'm glad we got some kind of reprieve between Alex and Lorna's non-wedding and…"_

"Und was, Liebling?"

Kassandra had suddenly slipped out of time. _"Get Northstar, Bobby, and Hank or at the very least Annie, as well as the police and fire departments over to St. Anne's. _MACH SCHNELL!" She then disappeared.

And arrived a second too late. Three windows were already shot out, and Molotov cocktails thrown through them. She could not prevent that now. But Father Dinh, Deacon Rezendez, the lector, the altar servers, and the choir director, along with a few others, had already filtered in to prepare for Mass. At this precise moment, with time stopped, Kassandra could be everywhere she was needed.

_Gott steh mir bei!_ Kassandra may not have been subject to time, but while she could drag everyone out before they could take one more whiff of smoke, she still had to breathe.

Northstar flew to the front lawn of St. Anne's. Nightcrawler teleported in the merest fraction of a second later, bringing along Iceman and Annie. Smoke billowed out from the doors and shattered windows of the church. Annie immediately took charge of the confused huddle that gathered in front of the church. Nothing worse than a couple first-degree burns and a little smoke inhalation. "Is everyone out?"

"Ja! Now, Iceman! Do your thing!" barked an unrecognizably hoarse voice. Kurt turned to see Zeitgeist, unusually haggard, face smudged with soot and tears, setting an altar server down on the grass, and a look in her bloodshot eyes of which he thought only Wolverine was capable. But just before he could recognize with certainty her expression, she disappeared.

"Northstar, try to follow her, and notify me when you've caught up."

The fastest man of all time never needed to catch up with anyone. But Jean-Paul knew this was no time to address petty slights.

One piece of shattered glass, a drop of spilled, burning fuel, that was all Kassandra needed to see, to access the timelines of the ones who threw those makeshift incendiaries. And she would get those Schweinehunde. She could even enjoy making them suffer for what they've done, even the very way the idea sickened her. They were about a mile and half away already. Fine. _Solche Feiglinge! _Of course they'd try to speed away as quickly as their car would take them, like that would save them. Still, catching up to them instantaneously, running that mile and a half past one car after another, past time itself, should have been easier. Yet she was tired and nauseous and her lungs still burned without mercy, verdammt. When would that healing factor kick in?

And there they were, in a white El Camino. A strange choice of vehicle for people who hate mutants. Sabre now in hand, she resumed a slow flow of time.

"Yeah, we got those-"

THUNK! SSSSSCCCCCHHHHRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNG! THUD!

The car suddenly stopped running. Driver and passengers, whiplashed out of congratulating each other for their stupidity, noticed that the hood and pretty much everything underneath it had been pretty well shredded. And a sword-wielding wraith stood atop the wreckage.

"-those disgraces to humanity?" said the wraith. "I could … take out a few… right here."

SNICK- CLICK.

"Nightcrawler, she's got them," Northstar said into his X-link. "A mile and half due west. Get the _gendarmerie_-"

BAMF! Nightcrawler teleported on the scene.

"Kurt!" Kassandra gasped. She really did not want him there right now.

A hail of bullets shattered the windshield. Time stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

Chelsea was sure those muties should have gone down, especially that psycho blurry _thing_ waving that sword around. She had emptied an entire magazine and had just reloaded. And there was no way she could have missed at that range. But now her dad's gun was suddenly in the hand of the first freak who should have died. It didn't look blurry anymore, but still seemed no less dangerous. Chelsea looked over to Tom and Rick. Their faces said the same thing. All were imagining what it must feel like to look for the last time into the eyes of an angry bear or lioness. Of course that thing would kill in defense of its own life and kind. Chelsea also claimed to fight for her own kind. But she never knew what that really meant until now.

"Kassandra-" said the blue devil-looking thing.

"You would have killed him…, me…, all those people in the church..., and you dare compare me… to a dangerous predator?" the lady said through labored breathing. Ooh, the comparison seemed more apt by the second. The lady jumped off the mangled hood, stepped over to the passenger side. "Glock 18… nice weapon… used by law enforcement…" She then glanced over to the blue guy. "…not by ex-feds."

Some other guy suddenly descended before them. "The police are on the way already, _non_?"

"Ja," said the blue guy. "And Kassi looks like she needs medical attention. Again."

"Get her back to the church then. I'll keep an eye on these delinquents."

"Thank you, Jean-Paul," said the lady. It suddenly occurred to Chelsea like a thunderclap. If these mutants were mere animals, she and the guys would have died, whether by sword or by the gun that was turned upon them. Supposedly, what set humanity apart was the ability to reason, to not be under the constant and exclusive sway of animal instinct. If that was indeed the case, then….

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"Nice job getting the fire out, though I don't know how you did it," said the fire chief.

"It's a gift," said Iceman.

"The criminals were apprehended, and there were no major casualties." The chief looked over to the one person who seemed to have it worst. A blue man was holding her through a vicious coughing fit while a nurse administered oxygen. "Amazing. I guess miracles do happen."

"If you call mutant intervention a miracle…" said Bobby.

"I would," Father Dinh interrupted. "I mean, how did you come by your mutant gifts and the conscience to use them well? Now, Chief, is it safe to go in?"

"I wouldn't recommend holding Mass in there today, Father," said the fire chief, "though you'll probably want to get some things out, right?"

"Yes. And since the weather's pleasant enough, and the news cameras are gone, we might as well have Mass out here. Kassandra, are you up to providing some music?"

She nodded, pulling the oxygen tube from her nose. "I'm feeling better now, Father. Danke, Annie, Kurt."

"Good. We'll move the piano out here, and your friends are welcome to celebrate with us if they like."

Jean-Paul was about to say no thank you, as he hadn't felt welcome in a church since he couldn't remember when. Kassandra suddenly grabbed his hand. "You know, you have at least as much right to be here as anyone else," she whispered.

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"Ich muß zugeben, Kassandra," Kurt said in a low voice, as he and Kassandra walked together after Mass. _"I worried a bit about the safety of having Mass outdoors, especially after this."_

_"I must admit I was more worried when the TV stations showed up. At any rate we were as safe as Jean-Paul being out of his closet. Or you going out without your image inducer."_

_"That brings up another point. There's a reason why I usually prefer attending Mass at the home for the blind. There, I can just be another member of the congregation. Here, even if the parishioners did welcome me, too many still looked at me strangely."_

"Ich verstehe," Kassandra admitted. _"But I don't think this is just the case with mutations. Even the most truly open-minded people may need time to get used to the various things that make people different and see people for who they really are. I know I do."_

"Du!" said Kurt, astounded. One of his few surviving memories of Kassandra from before his encounter with the Church of Humanity was of how utterly unfazed she was by his appearance when they first met. _"I thought your ability to peek into people's pasts would actually make you better at that!"_

"Ja, und nein. _I can see people's actions, events in their lives, and sometimes strong thoughts. But I can also see how their actions tie into and relate to other things that happen, and I can lose sight of a person's individuality if I don't maintain strict control. Those kids- I didn't just see troubled and insecure young individuals. I saw everything their behavior represented..," _Kassandra choked back tears._ "…and what it would likely escalate to if we didn't stop it. Killing them would have come all too easily to me if I didn't anticipate even worse consequences."_

"Ja," said Kurt, a little nervously. _"The Gospel reading really hit a nerve with all of us today, but I noticed you seemed particularly affected."_

_"That parable of the unforgiving servant- I always had trouble with that one. And it takes constantly reminding myself to remember that vengeance is not mine to take. This is no easy cross to bear, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone_."

_"But none of us were meant to bear our crosses alone, Kassandra." _Kurt was amazed at just how alike opposites could be. His cross was how people saw him. Kassandra's was all about how she saw people. He then recalled to her words that had often given him comfort. "Jesus sagtet, 'Kommt alle zu mir, die ihr euch plagt und schwere Lasten zu tragen habt. Ich werde euch Ruhe verschaffen.'"

_"Kurt, I wonder if you've been quoting that to Logan." _Kassandra threaded her arm through his and leaned her head against him._ "Just before I left for Montana, he said, _'I don't get what you and the Elf get out of your religion, but whatever it is, it'll keep you human. And I don't think you'll ever be alone as long as you hang onto that.'"

"Eigentlich, _I've been quoting that to myself quite often lately."_

"Gut." Kassandra didn't tell him about a particular timeline she'd begun to see- virulently, opportunistically, and parasitically entwined around Kurt's, but she had to say something. "_I think we'll both need to be especially mindful of that over the next week, _Liebster."


	9. Chapter 9

Logan joined Kurt and Kassandra for lunch, and was very interested to hear from Kurt about Kassi's heroics at St. Anne's. He was also glad to see the Elf was back to doing one of the things he did best- embarrassing the Little Elf.

"Kurt's exaggerating slightly," Kassandra protested.

"Slightly," Kurt smiled. "But the truth is that Bobby, Jean-Paul, Annie, and I would not have been able to do a thing had not Kassi seen this coming."

"Speaking of that," said Kassandra, as she got up and cleared her place, "I see myself being late for Alex's appointment if I stick around here any longer. Could we perhaps meet at the hangar in a couple hours?"

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"I can't really say much about Alex, Onkel Charles, even if he did sign the release form. But I understand the root of the questionable judgment he's been showing of late. He's still trying to piece his own life together in his own way. Even if he had broken up with Lorna before the bombing, she represented a connection to his old life. If he was going to go back to life as an X-Man, it only made sense in some way that he get back together with her, as well. Not the best reason to rekindle that flame, especially given Lorna's state of mind, and how Alex is still dealing with a major, but perfectly understandable, side-effect of Annie's care."

"Which is-" said Charles as he helped Kassandra pack.

"Remember the story Mama told, about her experiences treating war wounded? 'Sometimes the quickest way to a wounded soldier's heart-"

"- is through his IV.'" Charles smiled, recalling that that story ended with Kassandra and her siblings embarrassing their mother by arguing about how many impulsive marriage proposals she had to turn down at a patient's bedside. "But speaking of Lorna, I was also hoping she could talk with you about her own emotional instability."

"It won't happen, Onkel Charles. At least not at this point. She's not just angry with me for not coming to the wedding. I sent her on a violent mission in Montana. I might as well tell you that much. And besides that, I think she also blames me in part for my inability to prevent Genosha's latest disaster."

"Well, that at least provides some additional insight regarding her behavior."

"I can only tell you what happened to her, Onkel Charles. You're by far the best for helping her sort out her feelings about all that. And until we figure out which of these recent events have traumatized her most, I'm afraid we cannot properly help her."

"Do you think she'd consent to my probing her mind?"

"Absolutely. And this may seem a bit of a gamble, but if you detect any biochemical imbalance…"

"Lorna will need medical help, of course."

"And, strangely enough, she will likely insist that Annie help out. Which I think may be a good sign."

"Well," mused Charles, "it certainly is at the very least an interesting suggestion. But speaking of gambles, I am also concerned about the recent developments in your relationship with Kurt."

"I know," said Kassandra. "I warned him about the best and worst case scenarios, and so far, we are still in agreement that this is worth it."

"Are you?" said Charles, pointedly. "I know you've always had the most affectionate regard for him, even as a friend, and so the possibilities that you'd both be hurt as a result of this relationship must make you feel terribly conflicted."

Kassandra abruptly powered up, silently telling Charles that he hit a raw nerve. "I'm not just a missing link to Kurt's memories, and there's no way I can be an 'Annie' to him either. We discussed it. We chose to take the chance. And I'm doing all of what little I can do to ensure the best possible outcome."

Charles took her into his arms as he'd often done on those occasions when he was not just Professor Xavier, but the longtime friend of Kassandra's parents and honorary _Onkel_ to her and her siblings. Except she was no longer the baby of the large family of Altheims that often invaded his mansion. Nor was she the newly fatherless teenager whom he helped rescue from the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. "It's all right, Kassandra. You can power down. I don't need to read your mind to understand.

"And now I do believe you are about ready to leave, right?"

"Except for one thing," said Logan, as he and Kurt entered the hangar. "I don't believe the Little Elf's given me a proper hug."

"And I wouldn't dream of leaving without making sure you got one."

Logan ran his hand up Kassandra's right arm. "Good as new already, eh, kid?"

"Ja, except when it's about to rain. So I guess you've given me another neat new power." Kassandra planted a kiss on Logan's cheek. "I'll see you soon."

And so Kassandra boarded the X-Plane with Kurt yet again. But this time, Kassandra flew.

"So," said Kurt, as he strapped in. _"Will you be returning soon?"_

Kassandra sighed. "Nein, Kurt. _I think I'll be seeing all of you again soon- in court. The prosecution will want to hear from you, Warren, and Logan in particular regarding how cavalier I've been about sharing information."_

_"You know," _said Kurt, looking a bit uncomfortable, _"It's just as well you're flying. All this talk about the investigation just makes me want to take you far away from it all. Maybe on some Caribbean vacation."_

_"Well, if I could leave the country, I'd prefer an African vacation- going back home to Keetmanshoop and regrouping with the family. Then I'd take you north of Swakopmund. We could explore the ephemeral rivers and the shipwrecks of the Skeleton Coast. Besides, didn't you only just get back from the Caribbean?"_

"Ja. _And it was amazing. So much history. I could not see it all and not consider bringing you back to have a look. And just think of how nice it would be visiting Port Royal, Tortuga, or the Pearl Islands. Or if you'd rather, we could just find some uncharted island off the Bahamas, inhabited only by the two of us- _mein' Geliebte und mich_. And I would fly us there now if I could."_

Kassandra blushed. "Kurt, du bist unmöglich."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kassandra unpacked the last of her things and tried to make her humble little apartment presentable. She then walked over to a nearby cybercafe to catch up on email. And set up a new account, as she really should no longer have .gov at the end of her address. The next day, she would at the very least have to buy a new computer.

"Spam, spam, spam, spam…." Kassandra sang under her breath as she repeatedly hit delete. Ah, here was something completely different. "Your future employment," read the subject line. From "unknown address." She deleted it. A few better emails awaited her reading. She printed those to reread later, then returned to her table.

_"After days of not being able to reach you by phone, I now see you've deleted the email I just sent you. It's almost as if you were trying to ignore me. And you know that was bound to stop working. After all, I'd been watching you."_

Kassandra remained standing, staring at the man who was now sitting, uninvited, at her table. He spoke German in a low, smooth voice with an accent she could not place. And while he could cut a fairly dashing figure, Kassandra found him somehow repellent.

An instantaneous glimpse into this person's timeline revealed nothing. Okay, so the man's jet black hair and trim goatee were real. But that was not enough truth to go on at the moment.

"Es tut mir leid. _Did I invite you to sit with me?"_

_"Strange. I thought you'd be friendlier to someone who has so much in common with you, especially since I'm only trying to help salvage your career."_

"Ganz bestimmt," said Kassandra, icily. _"And if you'd been watching me, you'd know that the success of my last mission depends now on NOT salvaging my career."_

The man leaned in and whispered in English, "Black Ops."

Kassandra was unimpressed. "So? _It's not as if I hadn't worked with them before._"

"_So… many different nations, companies, and organizations not sympathetic to our cause are interested in information and weapons from AUTEC. The Naval base on Andros Island has resumed researching military applications of the Hutchison Effect. This information will prove cataclysmic in the wrong hands. We need you to investigate and eliminate any possible leaks. You could keep doing what I know you do best under the best possible cover, you'd have the full immunity you seem to want so badly, and this should not interfere with your current objective. Your mission will succeed, you will be able to continue as what you've called a modern privateer, and you'd get a chance to see the Bahamas, _wenn wollst dumit dein' Gel-l-l… dein' L-l-l-" here he suddenly started stammering like Billy Zane in that Tales from the Crypt movie. He just couldn't bring himself to say that word.

Kassandra stepped out of time again. This time, visibly. _"Okay, now I think I know enough about you. Completely dishonest except when you need to be manipulative. You think I'm a complete idiot? _In Jesus Namen, hau ab!"

The man did not move. _"Now I know you tend not to use your Lord's name lightly, but I will not leave. And I do not take kindly to being called a liar."_

"Ach, fahr zur Hölle!"

"Uh, Miss," said a nervous manager, "This is a no-mutant establishment. I'll have to ask you to-"

Kassandra disappeared, leaving a wad of bills on the table.

"-uh… leave?"

4


	10. Chapter 10

From: michaelaltheim

Re: Ich hoffe das hilft dir

_I want to begin by thanking you for telling Lucy about your trouble so she could break the news to the rest of us before we'd hear from anyone else. This gave us some time to brace ourselves and help Mama calm down before our news ran with the stories. Poor Mama still cannot grasp that you have actually killed people in your line of work. Our dear brother Vincent is taking this rather philosophically. He, our family's greatest pacifist, of all people, reminded us that Ecclesiastes did say there is a time even to kill. He believes that what you were trying to prevent must have been dreadful enough to warrant the measures you took. For everyone's sake, I hope he's right, and I hope you succeed in whatever you're trying to accomplish creating the stir you have. I still remember too well how even a just cause does not and should not necessarily ensure an easy conscience. Like how many people died so we could simply set up a field hospital during the Rwandan genocide. _

_Anyway, I did some searching and sent you some articles from some papers around the world, hoping that it will help if you know how people outside the States are reacting to this._

_Give my regards to Onkel Charles, Jean, Hank, and the rest. Even Logan. I figure, if you, the person who never forgets a thing, can find it in your heart to forgive him for breaking your arm, I suppose I should as well. But tell him I am still tempted to search for ways to break adamantium just in case. _;)

Wir lieben dich, und die Kinder beten täglich für ihre Tante Kassi.

-Michael

Kassandra read the printout of that email, as well as of the attached articles that were sent with it. Right and left wing papers alike from countries as diverse as Canada, Egypt, Thailand, and Switzerland echoed the sentiment expressed in Italy's left-leaning _La Republica_, of mistrust for the US government, their inconsistent regard for humanity's best interests, et cetera. Interestingly enough, the oft overtly political _Namibian_ contained most levelheaded reports, considering that up until only a few decades ago, when a certain diamond heir created quite the scandal and eloped with a woman from the opposite side of apartheid, the Altheim name seemed inextricably and rather prominently linked with colonial oppression. No matter. In only a few days, any objective, levelheaded reporting on her case would fly out the window altogether.

And now for reading the next email. She figured Kurt would lose no time sending messages like this. A sweet couple of sentences, the gist of which were that he missed her already. And he would console himself by planning a- purely hypothetical, of course- scuba diving adventure for the two of them, exploring ships sunken off perhaps Bimini or Abacos, and it would get their minds off all of their recent troubles.

Kassandra certainly understood. While Kurt was indeed recovering nicely from his run-in with the Church of Humanity, he was still tormented by some very ugly flashbacks. One in particular, involving a waterfall, Kassandra didn't have the heart to explain when he told her about it. But she knew, more than Kurt, what it meant. And the very idea that a mother could not only abandon a child, but hurl him off a cliff, turned Kassandra's stomach. A vacation could be good for him. She would have liked one, too. But why the Caribbean? And what was with all this talk about the Bahamas? Kassandra decided she'd had enough and had to call Kurt, now.

"Kurt, Liebster, _I have a different idea for an adventure. One that I think we should take now."_

"Was ist das, Liebchen?"

_"Fly down here right now, stay for a few days, and I can show you Washington DC like you've never seen it before. And we'll try to arrange with the court so you can deliver your testimony while you're here."_

Kurt suddenly had an impression of Kitty Pryde on the phone.

"Kassi, after all this," she said, "what I think we all need is to see England without any work-related distractions. You especially. You've obviously forgotten what it's like to travel for fun."

_"Kassi, I'd like that," _said Kurt_, "but it's late. How about if I fly in first thing tomorrow?"_

_"Kurt?" _Kassandra didn't know how to tell him that she was terribly worried it wouldn't happen. _"I'll pray you get here safely and soon. Can we meet at Langley Air Force Base? Forge owes me a couple of favors, anyway."_

"Nun gut. Ich liebe dich, Kassi."

"Und ich liebe dich auch, Kurt. Gute nacht."


	11. Chapter 11

**FORMER SPY A MUTANT!**

_Westchester County, New York- _One of the mutants that appeared on the scene at the bombing of St. Anne's Catholic Parish, Salem Center, was identified by eyewitnesses as Kassandra Altheim, the rogue CIA covert operations specialist responsible for the Church of Humanity massacre.

The CIA has denied any knowledge that she was a mutant and has disavowed the raid she led on the Cathedral. "It's clear now," said Director Gerald Karst, "that her reasons for overstepping her bounds were personal."

A spokesperson for the families of those lost at the Cathedral agreed, and said wrongful death lawsuits would not be filed against the government, but against Altheim herself.

Special prosecutor Emily Fitzsimmons has vowed to close the criminal investigation and indict as soon as possible. This revelation, she said, "changes everything…."

Kassandra didn't need to finish reading the article. While she appeared successful in taking heat off the government, she was still dismayed at the fickleness of public opinion. How quickly she'd gone from outed operative "allegedly" responsible for the "debacle" in Montana to rogue spy and mass murderer, all with the revelation of a genetic quirk.

"So, Zeitgeist," said Forge. "Enjoying more objective reporting at it's finest?"

"I'm just amazed at how we've managed to get the Washington Post and the Times to agree on something. So how's everything?"

"I should be asking you. I haven't been dealing with anything remotely mystical in years, you've been justifiably mad at me that whole time, and you call out of the blue asking to get together. Then you turn up and drag me here, hours before we originally planned to meet. So what dire warnings could you have for me now?"

"No warnings yet. Just a couple of questions, and you, being the government's main guy for Techint and research, should provide me with the insight I need. Quickly," said Zeitgeist, "what can you tell me about AUTEC's projects? Anything about applying the Hutchison Effect?"

"What do you know about the Hutchison effect? You never struck me as very strongly inclined toward physics."

"All I know is that it's something about using electromagnetic currents to warp time, space, or both. I only know because it's been bandied about in an attempt to explain everything from the Bermuda Triangle to how Kurt can teleport- or how I can control time. That, and it figured prominently into a couple of my favorite X-Files episodes- except those blamed Area 51 rather than AUTEC."

"And now you can say you know something else about it. The Navy's not responsible for the Bermuda Triangle phenomena. The artificial teleportation technology the military currently has wasn't developed at AUTEC, and it is still too primitive and dangerous- though I know that didn't keep your 'friends' in that cult from stealing and using it."

"That's why they resorted to some of those Mengelian experiments- they wanted to be able to teleport their troops without- without rehashing the Philadelphia incident," said Kassandra.

"And as for temporal manipulation, well," Forge smiled, "you may be happy to hear that we're not ready to replace you. Not in this time or reality, anyway. Why do you ask?"

"Some creep claiming to be from Black Ops said the Navy was again researching possible military applications of spatial and temporal warp, and wanted to send me to Andros Island to investigate, and, ah, eliminate, all possible leaks. I figured if that were true," Kassandra smiled in return, "you'd at the very least know something about it."

"Know _something!_ At this point, all I know is this is beyond even Black Ops if this gets by me without my notice."

"I figured as much. It's like when Pete Wisdom left MI6. Somebody's going to try to wrap me up in something worse."

"You're right. Maybe we should go and check it out."

"Forge, obviously you haven't gotten around to reading the paper yet. I really can't leave the country now, not since being outed as a mutant as well as a spy. SHIELD clearance or not. But here he is. An hour and a half early. Have your people ready to move, quickly."

The X-Plane had only just landed when Forge and Zeitgeist strode out to greet Kurt. A door opened, and a small gangway descended. And nobody came out. Kassandra cautiously stepped up. "Kurt?"

No response.

"Liebster?"

Kurt turned his head and looked her way.

"Gott steh uns bei!" Kassandra gasped in horror. Instead of the gorgeous smiling blue face she wanted to see, she saw sunken cheeks, hollow, contracted eyes, a face drawn in an expression of uncontrollable, unspeakable, and uncomprehending melancholy. Like something had poisoned his very existence, making it a nightmare which he could not understand, and from which he had no hope of waking.

"Kurt, kommst du mit mir, bitte. _And, uh, you may want to borrow my coat. It's… a bit cold out for what you're wearing."_

He still said nothing, but his eyes widened, he tilted his head slightly, and whatever it was that made him look so foggy and gloomy seemed to clear slightly. To be replaced by a grim, almost fierce determination.

"Z!" Forge yelled, as he caught Kassandra tumbling to the tarmac. Kurt took to the air yet again. "What was going on in there?"

Kassandra picked herself up. "I just received confirmation that I really should stay put and get a hold of Charles. And you'll need to try to intercept Kurt in Miami. NOW!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So. The one Margali called Nightcrawler would not bring the girl, though he would deliver the Steiger boy. Strange. The boy knew how she could escape, and made no attempt to stop her. Still, this could not be considered an abject failure. He had demonstrated considerable will power, even under mind control. He just might have the strength to survive what was in store for him.

On the other hand, the girl, while not a teleporter, was still important to his scheme. Her absence would mean less likelihood that his newest recruits would survive the mission, let alone succeed. And she was a difficult, willful little brat, possibly too smart for her own good. But still, he had a couple of other options for recruiting her.

Meanwhile, Kassandra decided to take a literal time out to find out more about this timeline that had wrapped around Kurt's like the tendril of a parasitic plant. Apparently, it tangled with his before, at a couple of points very early in Kurt's life. But only recently did it seem to exercise any influence. And now that influence was suddenly overwhelming.

Kassandra followed that connection, for that's how she began to see it, back to its source, an excruciatingly long line, that led right up too…

…well, there was no use in running. This man was, after all, only one of the best dimensional teleporters she had yet encountered. She reentered time upon arriving at the courthouse.

And was not surprised to soon feel a repulsive breath down her neck. _"I thought I might catch up with you here."_

"And I thought you were smart enough to figure out that I want you to leave me alone,"said Kassandra, loudly and in English.

_"Are you always this pleasant to people trying to help you?" _said the man with an unctuous smirk.

_"And how am I supposed to believe you're trying to help when you-"_

"Ich bin hier," said the man, "um dich zu warnen. Dein Gel-l-l… dein Freund Kurt, _was under the influence of a telepathic directive to ensure your immediate arrival at a secret military outpost due northeast of Harbor Island. His resistance, and his failure to take you with him, however, could mean the death of him and many others."_

_"Oh, and if I had come along with him, or if I consented to working with you, that would save them? Likely story."_

_"You discern the truth well. And that is a weapon you wield even more skillfully than that sword you wave around. But that is only the least of your powers, _nicht wahr?"

Kassandra said nothing.

_"Oh, please don't tell me you haven't explored the full potential of your abilities to manipulate time."_

_"Personally, I think you are too easily impressed by that stuff. The truth is most important. Like what I've been able to dig up about you. For instance, if you were who you've claimed to be for, oh, a few of our millennia now, you would have fled at the first sign of resistance."_

_"_Rotsnaze!_ You are aware that if you refuse to cooperate, you may seal the fate of everyone dear to you. Do you want to be responsible for that?"_

_"You're the one bent on world conquest. It's your responsibility. I, on the other hand, have depositions and indictments to deal with."_

The man reached toward her in a last-ditch effort. "Well, if you really trust a human justice system, that's your business. But you don't really even have to leave the country, if you'd just-"

"HÄNDE WEG!" Kassandra then felt herself dragged into the eye of a perfect temporal storm.

"Gott steh mir bei," she gasped, wrenching herself free of that abhorrent grasp as a wave of dry heat smote her.

"Gott ist nicht hier, Fraulein. Nicht in meinem Haus. Wilkommen in der Hölle."


	12. Chapter 12

So this was it? Eternal separation from God, all in a convenient pocket dimension size. Eternal torment enclosed by temporal currents at a juncture between time and space. Eternal death, where the living apparently could come and go as they pleased through small spatial gaps. Kassandra herself had been there before, in fact. Once, mid-teleport in Nightcrawler's secure grasp, she paused at that instant to have a look. None of that made any sense.

"What is this!" said one of the people that now gathered round. The large, winged man with the eye patch stooped low and looked Kassandra over, then, noticing the medal she wore around her neck, stood back and took a swing with some monstrous sword-axe hybrid. And Kassandra discovered that, while time flowed differently, it still flowed through this supposedly timeless, lifeless realm. And wherever, whenever there was time, there was power, even if it was harder to control. She dodged, daring even to laugh in delight over her discovery as he attempted swing after futile swing.

"Stop that!" shouted the black-haired man.

"She wears the emblem of an archangel!"

"I am well aware of that, but she is a powerful warrior." The man would not venture a guess as to how powerful, but seeing that she could manipulate time even in his realm excited him. "And as such, she is to be respected as my distinguished guest, if she is willing to parley."

"_You know," _said Kassandra cautiously, as she resumed temporal synchronization, _"I daresay my opinion of you is beginning to change."_

His face twisted into a mirthless mockery of a smile. _"I thought you might come around. After all, you and I do have a lot in common. You are not a dishonest person at heart, yet you engage repeatedly in tactical deceptions, and if not outright lies, then withholding or manipulating the truth to accomplish your objectives. I have done likewise as you are now well aware, all for a cause I think you would find noble. I seek your assistance in purging the earth of corruption once and for all."_

"_If you were really so concerned about eliminating corruption, you'd start with yourself! You're not a liar so much as you are delusional. _Auf nimmer wiedersehen!" Kassandra disappeared and, threading her way through the lines that, when moving, eddied ferociously within, beyond, and around the edges of… wherever, whenever she was, found her way back to where she'd left off.

A security guard watched with increasing concern as what looked like a potentially dangerous situation unfolded outside the courthouse. Some guy bothering a girl who had just said in plain English that she wanted to be left alone. Though he wasn't speaking English, he appeared to understand clearly. And he kept pestering her anyway. The discussion became very heated. Then he grabbed a hold of her. She screamed. And then, all of the sudden, the assailant was gone, leaving the girl coughing in a rapidly dissipating cloud of sulfurous smoke.

"Are you all right, Miss?"

"I'm fine. It's just… I'm fine." Her phone rang. "Hallo?"

She sighed and muttered something that, while not in English, did not sound in the least bit pleasant. "Thanks Forge. I'll let Charles know."

She then aggressively punched a button on her cell phone. "Hallo? Charles and Lorna are still in session? Tell them Alex, Carter and the rest will need their help, RIGHT AWAY! Yes, Carter, too. Somebody should let Annie know where her son is. And tell Charles to stick with following the telepathic signatures. Forge says radar, line of sight, and compass bearings are acting up again past Miami."

That was quite a display of power. So he was right that the girl could control and navigate through even the fiercest and most erratic chronological tempest. She would indeed have been valuable in helping the teleporters hold open the space-time rift and speed his forces through the portal. Also, there was her ability to discern and manipulate the truth, as well as her unique position in the genetic holy war he'd claim credit for engineering- after his victory was assured. Granted, she did wipe out quite a number of his unwitting pawns in Montana, but they were only human cannon fodder anyway, and a knight such as her still could be extremely useful to him, if only he could play her right.

She didn't even have to set foot on his island, though it might have been easier for all involved if she did. His island, a locale so carefully selected. Since long before the surrounding area was known as the Bermuda Triangle or even the Sargasso Sea, since even, as a couple of those pathetic Christian pub rat authors from England put it, before the fall of Númenór, its natural magnetic anomalies weakened the boundaries between dimensions. And, while he hadn't been watching her for anywhere near as long as he'd observed the others, he was pleased with how the seed of ruthlessness had taken root in her.

But as she was no offspring of his, manipulating her of course would be more difficult. And he may have underestimated just how cold and obstinate she could be. His appeal to her patriotism, her idealism, and her frustrations failed. And she l-l-l… she was, rather, utterly besotted with that Nightcrawler boy, right? Emotional, yes, but apparently not easily swayed by emotion.

"Ginniyeh," he said to one of his minions, "You will need to play the role of truth-reader, starting now, and possibly until our conquest is complete. Is there any possibility the time-rider would consider changing her mind to save the Nightcrawler's life?"

"None whatsoever, my lord Azazel."


	13. Chapter 13

**Church of Humanity Lawsuits Settled**

_Former CIA Operative Still Faces Criminal Charges_

_Washington DC- _In a move that defied the expectations of even her own attorney, mutant ex-spy Kassandra Altheim insisted upon settling with the families of the eleven men she killed prior to ordering a raid on the Church of Humanity's compound outside of Butte, Montana, and two more who died shortly thereafter.

"This by no means qualifies as an admission of guilt," said attorney Jack White. "It was Miss Altheim's hope that settling out of court would simply save the families some additional heartache."

A spokesman for the victims' families had this to say: "We might believe that this gesture was motivated by remorse. But it could also be an attempt to buy justice. There can be no justice and no reasonable expectation of closure for these families and those of all the others lost in the raid until this woman is at the very least put away for good."

Closure? What closure? There was only moving from one stage of grief to the next. Even accepting the reality was a stage of grief, not the end of it. Beating the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants into pulp- some of them twice- brought her no closure after they murdered her father. When Magneto's evil inclination took an all-too-brief vacation during Kassandra's last year at the Institute, she saw how the crimes he'd committed tormented his restored conscience. She did not have closure then. If Magneto, Pyro, Mystique, and Sabretooth were all locked up for life or even executed, she would not have closure. Even if she had the twisted satisfaction of killing them herself. No. Justice might be done from time to time. Acceptance, yes. Hopefully even reconciliation and healing. But closure? Never in this reality. Expecting it would always be unreasonable. It was only a pipe dream entertained by people who either never suffered a tragic loss, or never cared enough to notice if they had. An empty word never used by people who really understand.

A lump formed in Kassandra's throat, and fat, hot tears splashed onto the afternoon newspaper that now shook in her hands.

"Kassandra?" A friendly hand rested itself upon her shoulder. "What's the matter? You look like you've been through-"

"Don't say it, Jack. But you're right. I'm not feeling very well at the moment."

Not feeling well? Jack was only vaguely familiar with what Kassandra's abilities were- just enough to know that "not feeling well" either meant she would feel fine in a second, or big trouble was on the way. "Well, I could arrange to postpone the hearing if you think it will help."

"Nein, danke. We need to get this over with."

"Your honor," said Fitzsimmons, "the people charge the defendant, Kassandra Altheim, with eleven counts of murder in the first degree, twenty one counts of murder in the second degree, two counts of first degree manslaughter, four counts of treason, and one count of burglary."

"And how does the defendant plead?"

"Not guilty on all charges, Your Honor," said Jack.

"Mr. White, is your client all right?" The Honorable Thelma Montgomery had tried young killers before, and was all too familiar with the scared, vulnerable kid act they could pull in court to get sympathy. What shocked her was how this accused traitor and mass murderer looked like she could almost get away with that. And she didn't try. But she did look like she was going to be sick.

"Let's get on with it," the girl said.

"Very well. What do the people recommend?"

"As Miss Altheim has friends and family in countries not likely to extradite, and given the magnitude of the charges and the fact that she is a mutant," said Fitzsimmons, "the people recommend that she be remanded to federal custody pending trial."

Judge Montgomery noticed the girl exchanging whispers with her attorney. "Mr. White, does the defense have anything to say?"

"We do, Your Honor," said Jack. "We have evidence in emails, phone records, surveillance, and eyewitness accounts that Miss Altheim had several times refused opportunities to flee to the Bahamas, or even to leave the country at all. She also had only just recently moved to her current address in McLean. And finally, she had told her sister that she intended to face justice. If she posed any flight risk at all, she would have been gone by now. Also, she does not have a criminal record outside of these allegations. There is no evidence that, regardless of her mutation, she poses any threat to the community."

Jack was interrupted by a flurry of frantic gestures and whispers from the girl, who was looking worse by the moment.

"Well, I think I've heard enough for now," said Judge Montgomery. "I'll take five minutes to consider. And Miss Altheim, I recommend you take that time to get some fresh air or a drink of water. I don't put up with people playing sick in my courtroom. I'm certainly not going to tolerate the real thing."

"Thank you, Your Honor," said Kassandra, as she got up, and bolted for the restroom.

And got there at just barely the right moment.

Sometimes, subconscious awareness of an imminent tragedy was all it took to pull her involuntarily out of time. And this was more than subconscious. She knew what was wrong the same way someone without the healing factor might notice a cerebral spinal headache. And it was almost as gut-wrenchingly, excruciatingly physical. She pulled off the power inhibitors the court had started making her wear.

And just like it was with the Adversary or the Marauders, Kassandra was immediately zeroed in on what was wrong. And she could not look away. But if there was any truth in what that repulsive man said, she was not powerless to prevent it, even from a restroom in Washington DC.

Now what was it he intended for her to do? Create a localized temporal warp field large enough to encompass the spatial rift the teleporters' combined powers were creating? She hadn't attempted anything of that magnitude since her own ill-fated encounter with the Adversary, but, theoretically speaking anyway, while it would cost her, she could do it. And from the convenience of where she was, at least as far as space was concerned, she could see events and manipulate time even on an uncharted and unfortunately named Atlantic island, where the dimensional boundaries seemed weakest. Slow time down within the confines of her field to give the army assembled on the other side of the rift the advantage of extratemporal speed? Not a chance, particularly with Logan, Jubilee, Iceman, Havok, Husk, and young Carter Ghazikhanian there. But she could try something similar.

She certainly couldn't do nothing. Already, the strain of combining their powers to hold open the spatial rift was taking a toll on the teleporters assembled on that island. Indeed, _Mein Gott!- _some appeared to be melting together. Just as if- how did Beast put it?- electrons were forced to orbit through the space within other atoms, to produce not a molecular bond nor nuclear fusion, but quite simply atoms sharing the same space at the same time. But of course, that was all academic in light of the grisly reality. The man apparently was being half-truthful. They were already dying. Her inaction could kill all of them. As, on the other hand, any mistake on her part could kill them and many, many others.

So she got to work. And it was actually harder for her to create localized fields and manipulate the flow of time than it was to stop it altogether. Though stopping time was hard physically, temporal manipulation took more control and concentrated effort. But within the dimensional rift, time would flow indeed at a different rate than on the rest of that island. She'd speed it up. And for just one critical heartbeat at the right moment, for any longer could endanger all but maybe Logan, she would stop time around the lines of everyone on the island, outside the rift, giving them every advantage she could, right… here it is…NOW!

The mutant who had for so long called himself Azazel that he and many others began to believe that was who he really was, claimed he knew the dimensional currents in his little pocket universe like he knew his own tail. But nothing he knew could account for why his army took so long to arm and assemble, and why it seemed his side of the portal was so slow in opening to let through anything other than a couple of bowshots. Except for maybe… he opened a dimensional window to look in on the time-rider. And saw her, or rather, what appeared to be two blurry images of her superimposed on each other, in that restroom, and yet somehow not exactly there. And looking simultaneously sickened and giddily intoxicated with anxiety and righteous fury. The rotten little sneak. She somehow knew exactly what he wanted of her, and was doing the exact opposite. He would just have to push the few of his children that had any strength left to hold the gateway open a bit longer. And then his mental control over them slipped. His strongest telepathic blast accomplished nothing. In came the X-Men.

And the dimensional portal was destroyed.

A clerk walked into the restroom. "Miss Altheim, the recess is up- oh my God!"

"Ich konnte sie… nicht alle retten…"


	14. Chapter 14

"This just in," said the anchorwoman."An earthquake registering at 6.8 struck early this afternoon, causing structural damage throughout the north Caribbean and down the coastal areas of the southeastern United States. The US Geological Survey has placed its epicenter at 500 miles east of the Kennedy Space Center. While it says the chance of a tsunami is unlikely, the government of the United States joined those of the Bahamas, the United Kingdom, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic in urging people in the affected areas to stay away from the beaches.

"So far, there are only reports of minor casualties, but….

"Minor casualties? MINOR casualties!"

"You should be resting, not watching this. Oh," said Mrs. Slawson, as she noticed the news crawl running at the bottom of the television screen, "it looks like your little spell made the news, too. Exhaustion? I thought your healing factor could prevent that."

"Even I can overextend myself."

"Well, the doctors certainly agree. Now Naomi insisted on making you some chicken soup. Dear me!" said Mrs. Slawson, putting a squirmy Janie down as the television again grabbed her attention.

"Tonight," said a serious-looking man in glasses, "Had rogue spy Kassandra Altheim really reached her limit, or was her sudden courthouse collapse merely a ploy for the judge's sympathy?"

"Looks like neither the right or left pundits are going to be particularly sympathetic to you tonight."

"I didn't think they would," said Kassandra.

Janie held a pudgy finger up to the television. "Bwah bwah bwah bah!" she said with utmost conviction.

"That's right." Kassandra smiled. "The liberals advocate rights for all humanity, but they define humanity a bit too narrowly. Those calling themselves conservative may also have some good ideas, but they're too afraid of change to do anything. I figure I haven't done my job right if I don't catch it from both sides."

"Thpthpthpthpthpt!" said Janie.

"That's right, dear," said Mrs. Slawson. "Not a fun position to be in, Kassandra. I remember when my Joe came back from Vietnam, he was treated by one side as a worthless failure and the other as if he were personally responsible for My Lai, when all he thought he was there to do was strike a blow or two for freedom."

"Did he talk much about..?"

"He told me as much as he could. Really, I don't think the whole subject is good for his blood pressure, especially how the media covered the retaking of Hué."

"I can certainly understand that," said Kassandra.

A pair of little feet pattered down to her door, where a small tap sounded. "Gamma, Ta-see! Gampa say soup weady!"

Mrs. Slawson opened the door to reveal two-and-a-half year old Naomi, clad in a tie-dye tee shirt, bib overalls, and a pink tutu, her fine honey-blonde hair sticking out from behind a purple plastic tiara. "Chi-chen soup ma'e you bettah, Ta-see?"

"Ben and Naomi always have their special chicken soup when they're not feeling well," said Mr. Slawson, as he brought down a tray with a steaming bowl set on top."

"Ah-na-na-na-na!" Janie squealed.

"An' Danie yikes it too!" said Naomi, insistent that nobody forget her baby sister.

"Goo," said the baby, content that she made her intentions to be fed known.

"Well, plenty of that for all will certainly help," said Kassandra. "And after we get some rest and Ben finishes his homework, I think I'll be ready to tell you more stories, maybe this time about the mysterious Blue Knight of Schwarzwald."

"Yay! Boo Knight!"

And Kassandra only nurtured this one hope as she finished eating. That somehow, despite all the odds, her blue knight and the team sent to retrieve him would all come out of this okay. But she was too tired to look and make sure. Still, if anything really bad were happening at the moment, she was pretty sure she'd know.

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She was awakened a few hours later by her phone ringing. "Hallo? Kurt! Kurt, was ist los?" she practically shrieked. "Ist alles in Ordnung? Ich habe mich so gesorgt. Ich konnte nicht-"

"Kassandra…" said Nightcrawler. "Kassi, du weinst doch nicht etwa, oder?"

As if in reply, Kassandra sniffled and wiped away the tears of relief that gushed from her eyes. "Und Logan, und…"

_"All the rest are fine. And I'm taking a couple of other survivors back to New York as we speak."_

"Wie viele?_"_

_"Only two."_

Kassandra sighed. She would have liked to do far better. Still, this was better than she expected.

_"And," _Kurt continued, _"I think you'll be pleased to know that I've got with me one of your star witnesses, Nils Steiger."_

"Sehr gut, Kurt. _Though I won't need his testimony any more. I wasn't charged for attacking Sean Cassidy or killing Leyu Yoshida- the crimes he witnessed. And of course the repulsive question came up of if it counts as homicide when a mutant is killed. But he'll still be a valuable witness in the case against…"_

_"You can go ahead and say it. Against my mother. She stopped dropping hints and finally came out and told me. And I also met my biological father."_

"_Kurt…"_

"_If I ever regretted that I wouldn't be able to take you home to meet my parents, I don't any more."_

"Gut," said Kassandra, _"because I've already had the dubious honor of meeting _den alten Teufel, _and you may be thankful that I'm not calling him that literally. No offense, while he is dishonest, manipulative, and not above sacrificing any life besides his own for his agenda…"_

"_Don't forget lecherous. This guy apparently got around. He didn't lay a finger on you, _nicht wahr?_"_

"_He only tried to recruit me to control the temporal currents in and around the dimensional rift. He may be evil, but not stupid enough to try anything else with me."_

"Hey, uh, you ripping on the old man? 'Cause if so, I might like to add a few things!"

"Wer ist das?" Kassandra asked.

"Nils. _Apparently he is my half-brother. As well as this other guy from New Zealand. And several others who didn't…"_

"_I know. I tried to protect all of you… and couldn't."_

"_Kassandra." _Kurt made a valiant effort to keep himself pulled together. He'd been shocked to the core at witnessing the deaths of many he only just found out were his siblings, then giddy with excitement about meeting two surviving brothers. And apparently Kassandra once again did something drastic for his benefit- and felt she'd somehow failed. _"What exactly did you do?"_

"_A little remote work with temporal warp fields, that's all. I couldn't do much. I just didn't want that army to have enough time to get through the portal."_

"_So, I guess you saw the worst of what happened, then."_

"_Unless what happened to you while I was recovering was any worse, _Gott bewahre."

"_Well, it looks like all my worst suspicions about my parents were confirmed."_

"Nein, Kurt. _Not the very worst ones. Okay, _so Mystique ist dein' Mutter_. But the old man isn't who he thinks he is. And even if he were, I don't see how it would make a difference regarding you. Do you have any memory of when I first enrolled at the Institute- about a year after you joined?"_

"Eigentlich..," Kurt thought for a bit, as he was still sorting through his flashbacks. _ "'_ Ein Vater der Waisen, ein Anwalt der Witwen ist Gott in seiner heiligen Wohnung.' _I seem to remember you- you cried when I quoted that to you. Was that… at your father's funeral?_"

"Ja. _And you quoted one more to me. One of your favorite verses."_

The familiar and comforting words of Romans 8:15. "'Denn ihr habt nicht einen Geist empfangen, der euch zu Sklaven macht, so dass ihr euch immer noch fürchten müsstet, sondern…" It was Kurt's turn to choke up.

Kassandra finished for him. "'…ihr habt den Geist empfangen, der euch zu Söhnen macht, den Geist, in dem wir rufen: Abba, Vater!' Und Kurt? _In your plane right now I think we have three living examples of how life is by no means like an Omen movie."_


	15. Chapter 15

The next day at the courthouse, jury selection wrapped up. And already the jurors were well aware that this was not going to be another hassle to weasel out of, nor another vacation paid for by the government. The defendant was being charged with all kinds of heinous crimes. Yet she didn't look or even act as if she was capable of hurting even a gnat. Her attorney, on the other hand looked far more worthy of the shackles she wore than she did. He had just angrily requested to approach the bench. The trial hadn't even really started, and already things were getting interesting. A few of the jurors leaned in hoping to catch a little of the apparently heated exchange he had at the sidebar with the prosecutor and the judge.

"It's one thing if the grand jury that's in session happens to have no mutants on it, but to deliberately select only non-mutants for this jury violates my client's right to a trial by her peers."

"Your Honor," said the prosecutor. "The defendant had for years been passing herself off as human and even to this day identifies herself as human. An all-human jury should suffice. Besides, we don't want to risk, say, a telepath on the jury manipulating the proceedings."

Judge Montgomery was not comfortable with the regulations placed upon mutants, but she was first and foremost an interpreter and enforcer of the law. "Mr. White, while I appreciate your point, as we had explained to the selection pool, it is your client who is on trial, not mutant regulations, nor," she looked hard at the prosecutor, "mutants or mutation in general. Swear in the jury."

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"And our reporter is coming to you live from the Washington DC federal courthouse, where the trial of mutant spy Kassandra Altheim just got under weigh this morning. How are things going out there?" said the anchorman.

"Things are already getting quite heated out here," said the newswoman, indicating the crowd of anti-mutant protestors and attention starved goofballs trying to get their faces on television.

"And the cross-examinations promise to be even more so. Witnesses are being brought in from as far away as England, France, Italy and Altheim's native Namibia to take the stand. And even witnesses from the United States include people such as CIA Director Gerald Karst, Warren Worthington III, and various members of the notorious band of mutants, the X-Men."

"Will Charles Xavier be there? I understand he was a longtime friend of the Altheim family."

"No. As telepaths, he and Dr. Jean Grey will actually not be allowed there at all. Some other witnesses, due to the nature of their mutations, will also not be allowed in the courtroom. Rather, they will have to deliver their testimony via closed-circuit feed. Others might- and this is purely speculative- but they might be allowed in on the condition that they wear inhibitors while delivering their testimony or leave immediately when they're finished. The only one who will be allowed to stay in the courtroom for the duration of all the proceedings will be Altheim herself, also on the condition that she wears inhibitors and restraints."

"So I bet the mutant rights activists will be up in arms over this treatment," said the anchorman.

"Oh, they are," said the reporter. "But if you look at it one way, it's really no different than forbidding weapons in the courtroom."

"The defense would like to call Warren Worthington III to the stand."

Archangel was sworn in, then took his seat by the judge's bench. Kassandra had not seen as much as she would have liked of him lately, but was glad to see that he was looking remarkably well, especially considering all he'd been through. And she was even more pleased to see that nobody insisted on binding his wings.

"So, Mr. Worthington," said Jack, "I've heard you've had a rather checkered history with my client. Would you agree with that description?"

"Yes," said Warren. "Yes, I would."

"And why?"

"In the time I've known her, I've known her as an ally, an enemy, and finally as a friend."

"How would you describe her in each of those capacities, Mr. Worthington?"

"As an enemy, make no mistake. She can be dangerous. As an ally, she can be difficult and unpredictable, and may not take orders or suggestions well. But as a friend, she is very loyal."

"Would you say she extends that same loyalty to her country?"

"Absolutely. I can't tell you how many assignments she'd taken at risk to her own life out of her sense of patriotic duty."

"But based on what you do know, do you think she is the sort that would intentionally betray or kill anyone."

"No." Warren thought for a bit. "No. Not intentionally."

"Thank you, Mr. Worthington." Jack took his seat.

Fitzsimmons rose and approached the stand. "Mr. Worthington, could you state for the benefit of the jurors who may not already know what your occupation is?"

"I am chairman emeritus of Worthington Industries."

"And how did such an illustrious person as yourself come to regard Miss Altheim as an enemy in the first place? Was it anything she did?"

"No, it was not."

"What happened, then?"

Warren hesitated, one wing giving a nervous flutter.

"Jack, you've got to stop this!" Kassandra whispered frantically.

Fitzsimmons pressed on. "Did it have anything to do with your affiliation with the mutant known as Apocalypse?"

"Kassandra, it might help if the jury knew you went up against that guy," Jack whispered back.

"Still," Kassandra replied, "She's going to ask questions Warren can't legally answer."

"Objection!" said Jack, aloud. "How is this relevant to the case?"

"Your Honor," said Fitzsimmons, "this bears upon the witness' credibility as well as his relationship to the defendant."

"Permission to approach, Your Honor?"

"Granted," said Judge Montgomery.

"Your Honor," said Jack, "this line of questioning could compel Mr. Worthington to reveal information that, while potentially helpful to my client, the CIA itself has determined is irrelevant to this case, and has kept classified."

"Your Honor," said Fitzsimmons, "Information on Mr. Worthington's involvement with the Horsemen of the Apocalypse was easily available courtesy of Mr. White's own colleague Jennifer Walters."

"But no information on my client, Your Honor," Jack retorted.

"Overruled," said Judge Montgomery. "Ms. Fitzsimmons, you may present to the jury your evidence about Mr. Worthington's affiliation with Apocalypse, but I suggest that, I suppose in the interest of national security, you change your line of questioning. And rephrase the question."

"Looks like I won't be calling on Logan to testify," Jack muttered as he returned to his seat.

Fitzsimmons presented the documents in question to the bailiff, then resumed pacing before the witness stand, trying not to look like she'd just shot herself in the foot. "Very well. Mr. Worthington, can you say if Apocalypse had anything to do with the one-time animosity between you and the defendant, without going into classified specifics?"

"Yes," said Warren. "It did."

"And now," said Fitzsimmons, "could you elaborate on how you came to regard the defendant as an ally? Did that have anything to do with the ties you share with Charles Xavier?"

"Actually, no."

"Why, then, did you go from being casual acquaintances with mutual friends to actually working together?"

"After the depth of my uncle's involvement in diamond smuggling came to their attention, the CIA recruited Kassandra to expose that syndicate's connections in Angola, South Africa, and Namibia. I had to keep her and her station chiefs updated regarding developments on my end."

"And as a diamond heiress, the defendant had a personal, vested interest in ending this illegal competition, right?"

"What about it?" said Warren, a little annoyed. "Most agents take assignments for personal gain. And do you know what she and her family have been doing with their money?"

"Mr. Worthington," snapped Judge Montgomery, "answer the question."

"Yes, she did," said Warren.

"And you were officially a contact for the CIA during that operation. Did this relationship with the agency continue up to and during Operation Conclave?"

"Officially, no."

"And yet, we have on record that she continued corresponding with you about an operation that was supposed to be top secret." Fitzsimmons presented some more papers to the bailiff, who handed a couple to Warren before distributing them to the jury. "Did the defendant send you these emails?"

"Yes she did."

"And did she call an unauthorized conference with you, the mutant formerly known as Weapon X, and Dr. Jean Grey?"

"Yes."

"Did she discuss her intentions to go to the Cathedral, without a warrant or any federal authorization?"

"Yes, she did, as well as her reasons-"

"Thank you, Mr. Worthington."

"Now just a minute-" Warren about jumped from his seat, wings whirring in indignation.

"That will be all Mr. Worthington," said Fitzsimmons, sharply. "Thank you."


	16. Chapter 16

The prosecution then called CIA Director Gerald Karst to the stand.

"Mr. Karst," said Fitzsimmons, "what did the defendant report to you about her involvement in Operation Conclave?"

"It's all in the written report she submitted with her resignation- more paperwork for the jury to read through, I suppose, but there was one other thing. She admitted to me that she deliberately leaked her involvement in the raid to the press."

"And how long has the defendant served under your direction?"

"Since she first joined the CIA."

"And in all this time under what kinds of cover did she work- that you are at liberty to disclose to the jury, of course?"

"Zeitgeist remained working with the FBI, only under a different department and under the name Elizabeth Errol-Koenig. She'd also worked under her own identity as a diamond dealer and a member of the Hellfire Club. Bear in mind, she could work under two or more covers simultaneously, and so in addition she worked on those assignments respectively as freelance journalist Angelique Sauvegarde, and as rogue CIA officer Celestine Ritter."

"Tell me about Celestine Ritter, what you can anyway. For what purpose did the defendant work under that alias?"

"That was so she could investigate the Hellfire Club both in New York and in London. That way, if she stepped on any toes within British Intelligence, we could sacrifice Miss Ritter without losing Zeitgeist. Fortunately-"

"Half a moment," said Fitzsimmons. "Now, whose idea was it for her to adopt the cover of rogue officer?"

"Hers," said Karst. "And, actually, her mission succeeded in no small part because of that."

"Regardless," said Fitzsimmons, "what do you think now about that willingness she showed to play the part of a rogue spy? Do you think it's possible that reflected a growing desire to disregard the law, the chain of command, and take matters into her own hands?"

Karst looked unsure. "It's possible, I suppose."

"And what can you tell me of her assignment in Ronsaphan?"

"Quite simply, her cover there was as a mercenary and an assassin looking to improve her weapons proficiency and find more work. Her assignment was to track illegal weapons shipments and terrorist trainees that came through Thailand."

"I understand that did not go quite as smoothly. Now I understand that the details of who did what wrong there are being kept secret both by the CIA and MI6. But the end result was..?"

"According to Zeitgeist's report, the mission was compromised. The whole smuggling and terrorist training operation there was wiped out, but it came at a terrible human cost. She and only one other survived. Everyone else, even village bystanders, was slaughtered."

"How many died by her hand?"

"It was impossible to determine."

"But is it safe to assume that when this mutant menace gets herself in trouble, people die by the dozens, or in this case, perhaps even hundreds, right?"

"OBJECTION!" shouted Jack.

"No further questions," said Fitzsimmons. She returned to her seat, feeling quite confident as Jack, looking as if he'd been suddenly forced to completely scrap and improvise the cross-examination, approached the stand.

"Director Karst," said Jack, "when my esteemed counterpart questioned you about my client's work as Celestine Ritter, you were about to say something about the purpose of creating that persona, but were cut off. What was it you were going to say?"

"I was just going to add," said the Director, "that Scotland Yard and MI6 shared our concerns about Black Air and their apparent connections with the Hellfire Club. Through Celestine, consequently, we were able to cooperate more fully and directly with British Intelligence. But officially, Celestine did play fast and loose with our agreement to not spy upon British subjects, and once her assignment was done, she had to disappear."

"You also said you supposed it's possible that her willingness to take that role reflected a growing desire to flout the law and chain of command, and take matters into her own hands. Did you ever consider the idea that this actually reflected some different characteristic?" Jack asked.

"Yes, I most certainly did, at the time, even if I'm not so sure any more."

"What was that?"

"A tendency to put herself on the line for our best interests."

"And after Operation Conclave, how did you feel about her resignation?"

"I personally hoped she'd stay on at least until the investigation was closed," said Karst. "She had proven herself a very capable operative, able to get unusual amounts of information, for instance, from contacts, while avoiding potentially compromising situations far more effectively than most. I was worried that her resignation would amount to a premature admission of guilt. But, of course as it turned out, she had to go."

"Did she say why?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Karst. "She did not want the agency to appear to be covering for her."


	17. Chapter 17

And so the day dragged on. One witness after another was called up. Witnesses from the hospital, describing the wounds her boys suffered. Forensic scientists testifying about swords and ballistics. Newspaper editors. Cult experts. It seemed Miranda would never be called to the stand, but at last her turn came. What was her name? Miranda Eastman. From Napa, California. She answered flatly, like a woman who'd cried out all her tears and was utterly drained of any emotional vitality. Was she related to Justin and Jason Eastman, who had died at St. James Hospital in Butte, Montana? Yes. Yes, she is- was- their mother. As well as the aunt of Arnold Eastman.

What had become of her nephew? He'd left for Rome. The family then heard nothing from him until word got back that he was being questioned regarding his involvement in a supposed terrorist network. Then shortly after that, he went missing, and is now presumed dead.

And how about her sons? A similar story. They joined the Church of Humanity. Once she made it clear that, while she supported their decisions, no matter how religiously unorthodox, she would not follow the same path, she heard nothing more from them. Until she got a call from the hospital. At this point, an unexpected reserve of emotion started bubbling up to the surface.

"May I ask what they were being treated for?" said Fitzsimmons.

Miranda swallowed hard and tried to compose herself. "Justin lost both arms. Jason lost an arm and was shot through the leg and stomach. So I flew up to Butte as quickly as I could, and by the time I got there, they… were… gone."

A muffled sob came from the direction of the defendant's table. Miranda glanced over to see the defendant's family, evidently not mutants as they were allowed to sit in the courtroom, huddled behind the surprisingly diminutive form of the accused. All appeared just barely keeping it together as Miranda was asked to recount how she suffered losing her boys, and not even being allowed to bury them.

The defendant- well even a vicious dog could appear contrite when caught. In fact, Miranda wondered why they were even bothering with a trial. It wasn't like she was human. And she was only American on a technicality. Immigration never bothered to ask if she was a mutant. So it seemed human rights and the rights due a citizen didn't really apply. The creature needed to be put down.

That it would mean one more human mother left behind to grieve, well… suddenly Miranda wasn't so sure. Some people, even those who shared her anti-mutant sentiment, called her sons religious fanatics after they joined that cult and then stopped having anything to do with her. She was still their mother, and would mourn accordingly. So this other woman birthed and raised a mutant. She was certain to soon lose a daughter. They didn't seem all that different any more.

Fitzsimmons had asked her last question, leaving Miranda to brace herself for the cross-examination. The defense attorney paced before the witness stand before he spoke.

"Mrs. Eastman, I can only imagine the enormity of your grief. After all, you didn't lose your sons just once, but twice- the first time being when they joined the Church of Humanity. That must have been particularly painful, considering, and I'm assuming here, that you didn't raise them to hate mutants or Catholics… or did you?"

"I never raised my boys to hate anyone!" Miranda sobbed, suddenly infuriated. "I encouraged them to think for themselves, create their own path in life, and live by their own morals, but never to hate!"

"I understand. Sometimes the apple does indeed fall farther from the tree than we expect. But just so we're perfectly clear, you yourself don't harbor any prejudice against mutants or Catholics, do you?"

"No, no of course not."

"May I," said Jack, "remind you that you are under oath?"

"Well, okay. That scandal just shot what little credibility the Church ever had with me completely. And then they had the nerve to insist that human rights must apply to mutants, like to feti, the socially unfit, all that garbage while ignoring the plight of living, productive, human children, and completely disregarding the rights of majority who don't even think mutants are human. Yeah, I have a problem with that. And no, I don't think mutants are fully human like you or me. Or, actually," Miranda said, lowering her voice as she noticed the increasingly prickly demeanor of the defendant's mother, "come, to think of it, I'm not so sure. But at any rate, I'm not prejudiced."

"Thank you, Mrs. Eastman. No further questions." Jack returned to his seat, muttering under his breath, "that woman assumes far too much."

2


	18. Chapter 18

If the mutant who called himself Azazel had any virtue whatsoever, it was perseverance. If one plan failed, he always had another. So the X-Men, particularly with that Polaris' finely tuned magnetic abilities, laid waste to his fortress and forced him to beat a hasty retreat. So what children weren't killed off in his previous invasion attempt could not open a portal large enough for his army. He did not need a fortress any more. He might not even need his army. He could start with a few easily manipulated souls desperate for approval, power, or revenge. Then, if he simply executed this new plan correctly, barring the involvement of some opportunistic interlopers eager to lay claim to his prize, he would have a super powered army already on earth, desperate for decisive leadership, eager to take action against that human plague. Even if it wasn't happening as he originally planned, his war was still taking shape quite nicely.

"I don't like the look of that crowd out there one bit," said Kassandra, as they prepared to leave the courthouse. Outside the main entrances, beyond the crush of media, hordes of protestors strove to out-shout each other. "Could I please take the inhibitors off now?"

The police officers about to escort her out looked at each other not quite knowing what to say.

"My daughter has a point," said Dr. Altheim. "Just look at this. If I were a mutant, I wouldn't want to venture out there without my powers."

"And from the looks of things," said Warren, "you'll have your work cut out for you protecting the others."

"But we can help you, of course," said Kurt, who had been watching the proceedings on the feed to the mutants' room and had just stepped into the lobby. He then carefully outlined a plan for getting everyone out of there with minimal fuss. Warren was impressed to see Nightcrawler using the leadership skills he seemed to lose after their first misadventures in Montana. And Kassandra was glad. She may have doubly wished that Sean Cassidy could be in any shape to help. One word in his commanding voice could quell any impending riot. But she had another idea.

"Einen Moment, Kurt," she said, pulling her inhibitors off. In the blink of an eye, she checked a timeline. "Great idea. It should work, of course, on a couple of conditions. We have to keep the sentinels out of this, even if there are mutant supremacists in the crowd posing a threat. We don't want a panic. And besides the usual anti-mutant media tools, we've got a certain breath of fresh air reporting. Jack, while we're departing, how about if we also give her something exclusive? And after we all get out?"

"We all meet for dinner at Gregor's," said Jack, "though I can't stay for long. I've got Cain Marco's case too, and unfortunately, not Kassandra's time management skills!"

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"This is Trish Tilby reporting from the federal courthouse where the first day of testimony in the trial of Kassandra Altheim has just concluded."

Professor Xavier might have been able to restrain his desire to check in on the proceedings telepathically, but televisionally was a different matter entirely. Some of the other new reports, objective only in the minds of their reporters and producers, were beginning to annoy even him. On the other hand, this lady was the first he'd heard refer to Kassandra by name without first calling her "mutant ex-spy," "accused traitor and murderer," or something even worse. He was glad to see someone reporting on the situation who didn't think presumed innocence allowed exceptions for mutants.

"The crowd is very tense here at the moment," Ms. Tilby continued, "and security has been tighter than usual today. It also appears that- what's this?"

"What's just happened?" the anchor asked.

"I have just been somehow handed a written statement, signed by Kassandra Altheim and her attorney, Jack White. They call this a preemptive renouncement of violent demonstration. It says here that they hope the people gathered here tonight can express their opinions peacefully, and, I quote, that "demonstrators on either side unable to do so will discredit their cause and likely endanger some of the very people whose right to exist they claim to support."

"Does this seem ludicrous to you, given the magnitude of the charges against Miss Altheim, that she would renounce violence now?"

Xavier cringed.

"Not at all," said Ms. Tilby. "Bear in mind, Miss Altheim's family and some of her closest friends are here tonight. It stands to reason that she would insist extra measures be taken to protect them. And of course no law specifically exempts mutants from presumed innocence. This also says that Miss Altheim and some of the witnesses have pledged to cooperate fully with security to ensure that everyone can leave the courthouse in safety."

The shouting in the background redoubled.

"And based on what I see now," said Ms. Tilby, "I'd be grateful for that extra help."

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Kassandra was the first out the door. In an instant, she made sure Trish Tilby had her statement in hand. Then she flit over to the tree where Nightcrawler had arranged to meet her and resumed time. And with a muffled bamf and the feel of his arms around her, she soon found herself standing with him on the highest limb able to support their weight.

"Nette Außicht, Kurt." But this was no time to simply enjoy the view. Kassandra gazed across the lawns and the front walkway. She could see by the sufficient light of the setting sun Archangel on the roof of the courthouse.

"We're in position," said Kurt into his communicator.

"Now," Miss Tilby continued, "Apparently Miss Altheim and a couple witnesses have already managed to leave the courthouse, so it's unlikely that we'll be able to see or get any comment from them, but…"

"Gottes Wille geschehe," said Kassandra.

The doors to the main entrance opened, and out came a security detail escorting the jury to their transport.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry," said Kassandra, as the van drove away and another few cars pulled up. "Oh, Lieber Gott!"

"I hear a shouting match startin' by that news van," she heard Logan say into his communicator. "And they're usin' fighting words."

"And there's some shoving going on about 20 feet behind the press line on the east side," said Warren.

"We're on it," said an officer.

But Kassandra seemed suddenly distracted by something else. "Guys, make sure Fitzsimmons and the prosecution witnesses are the last to leave."

"But-"

"I don't know about you, but I actually want to keep them alive. Logan, can you get in there and make sure they stay?"

"Sure thing, kid," said Logan.

Kurt could feel Kassandra relax, but only a very, very little bit as her family and Jack were ushered out the door. "Dr. Altheim! Mr. White! Father! Mrs. Pulayantlha!" cried the reporters vying for their attention and hoping to get a comment.

"We need more reinforcements along the press line," said Warren.

"People are trying to break through," said Kassandra.

"Mutie-lovers! You should be tried for treason! You- you're a doctor! Why didn't you abort that thing? Or find a cure? Some loving human family, raising up a monster! You're only getting what's coming!" shouted the unsympathetic masses.

They walked to their car offering no response but a solemn and somewhat graceful stoniness.

"_Mama knew stuff like this would happen eventually_," Kassandra said, choking back tears and wishing she had some duct tape on hand to apply to more than a few deserving mouths. "Wir waren uns alle dessen bewußt."

"Deine Mutter ist stärker als meine," said Kurt, planting a kiss on the top of her tousled head. _"For what it's worth, my mother threw me over a waterfall rather than go through the sort of thing your mother is facing today."_

"_It still doesn't make hearing the things they're saying any easier."_

"Ich verstehe, Kassandra."

Kassandra suddenly stiffened, then said in English, "Okay, everyone, we'll have to get moving. Be on guard. On my signal … NOW!"

With that, Kurt teleported himself and Kassandra down from the tree then grabbed Fitzsimmons, who had just stepped out the door.

"We ain't gonna just stand there and let 'em railroad another one of us, are we?" a voice cried out.

"What the-?" BAMF! Fitzsimmons suddenly found herself in her car, choking on noxious smoke.

"You could thank me for saving your life, but I think I'm spoken for."

BAMF!

Back in front of the courthouse, most of the people who had first disregarded the order to disperse were beginning to understand what it meant, and quickly scattered. _Und Gott sei Dank!_ Kassandra saw this getting worse with every upcoming minute, and didn't want any extra people around. "Warren, intercept him dead ahead of you, twenty four feet up, NOW!" she cried. "Logan, you smell out the rest of them?"

"Sure do, kid, but could use some help roundin' 'em up."

"Okay officers, you know the drill," said Kurt.

"Big show of force for anyone who isn't leaving or trying to help us, but don't engage them. Got it."

"And guard your thoughts!" Kassandra shouted. "We're in for big trouble!" Then her comlink, which had been operating erratically, finally went dead.


	19. Chapter 19

So Warren flew into Toad at the peak of his leap, knocking him down. But Toad landed on his feet and bounced back up- shooting toward a cult expert the prosecution had brought in. Warren swooped down to intercept him again. It looked like he would have a real fight on his hands.

As Logan already did, battling Time Shadow. For once Logan didn't need to try to avoid killing the enemy. He in all his phase forms dodged each swing of the claws perfectly, taunting Logan mercilessly. And Logan did not seem to be getting the help he needed keeping him back. What was with the security officers?

Verdammt. Kurt was going to have to teleport the witnesses into the van himself. The security detail had actually closed in around them, not helping while he, Warren and Logan facilitated the escape and fended off enemies. In fact, they weren't doing anything at all except blocking his view, making his job more difficult. Worse yet, some protestors, whether out of fear or morbid curiosity, apparently changed their minds about following the dispersal order, and they were jostling with people who were trying to leave. The press of course had to stick around and get all this, and they also found themselves in the way. And where was Kassandra?

_"Of course she'll go straight for me," _thought Ticktock. _"But we should be able to remove that threat. It's not very clear, but I don't expect she's willing to hurt the security officers."_

"No, I was actually hoping to stay out of this fight altogether," said the wraith that stood right before him, wielding a couple of borrowed nightsticks. She took swing after swing. And missed.

"You don't have a choice, now, do you?" said Ticktock, as Time Shadow's phase forms now engaged her as well as Wolverine, Toad and Archangel tusseled, and even Kurt was beginning to suspect he might have to fight, rather than just teleport himself and the witnesses out of this mess. Why couldn't Kätchen be here now? Or Jean? Or a few Madroxes? Or even Scott? Even with Kassandra's temporal multilocation, it looked like they could use all the extra help they could get.

"I always have a choice," said Kassandra. "RUN!" she screamed, throwing up a temporal field, stopping time around the witnesses that Kurt hadn't yet teleported out. And they were gone.

_"Very well," _thought Gamesmaster._ "Your ascendancy must begin with bloodshed. If we can't get our original targets, these people will serve just fine. Fall back and let security take them." _

Kassandra detected that thought. It rankled that she couldn't tell just then where it came from. But no matter. Toad had finally managed to leap onto Warren's back and yank out a couple handfuls of feathers bringing them both down. Logan's irritation at being neither allowed nor apparently able to kill Time Shadow was beginning to get the better of him. And while Kurt and Kassandra fared a bit better against the temporal phase forms, there was Ticktock's extratemporal gift of anticipation, a handful of angry, frightened stragglers, and no small number of fully armed and telepathically manipulated guards to reckon with. Ticktock particularly impressed Kassandra. However, there was one thing he did miss.

Something distracted Gamesmaster. Ticktock knew that was probable, but as he didn't understand how, he dismissed the likelihood. And yet it happened. And that distracted him, too, giving Kassandra all the opportunity she needed. In that instant, it was lights out for Ticktock, Timeshadow, and Toad.

"Kurt, raus mit ihnen," Kassandra cried, indicating Logan and Warren. "Jetzt!"

Kurt knew better by now than to disbelieve Kassandra. He hoisted up Warren, threw an arm over Logan's shoulder, and teleported them a short but, he felt, safe distance away. And noticed something very odd. Normally teleporting with two people took a lot out of him. This time, it took almost no effort, and he felt fine. And it seemed that his teleportation released less than the usual amount of smoke.

"You know the way to Gregor's from here?" Kurt asked.

Warren nodded, looking a bit dazed

"Good, because I don't." Kurt teleported back to the courthouse. And that felt normal.

Kassandra had just put down the nightsticks, and while she was still powered up, there were no more extra wraiths flitting about. And Ticktock, Toad, and Time Shadow lay at her feet unconscious.

"You've got them, Miss Altheim. Now power down," said a rather disoriented looking security officer as his forces now completely surrounded her.

"You've got your guns trained on me," said Kassandra. Gamesmaster could hardly blame the girl for radiating mistrust over the situation. He had been trying, with frustratingly limited success, to refocus after that momentary distraction. While he couldn't read her thoughts, there was never any doubt as to how she felt. And he suspected she was on to him. Better to break all concentration before she was sure.

"And some mutie's been poking around in my mind!" shouted one of the braver, more defiant stragglers. The shouting of the remaining protestors and the violence of their struggles redoubled in response. So the apparent telepathic manipulation had ceased. That did not by any stretch mitigate the danger.

Kurt, deciding this was his cue, caught Kassandra up in his arms, and teleported out. He noticed again that porting took less effort and released less smoke than usual. And found himself, much to his astonishment, taking them right to Gregor's front entrance. He set her down and after a giddy lip lock, asked, "Wie sind wir hier gekommen?"

_"A five mile blind teleport?" _said Kassandra, equally astounded. _"I kind of navigated and sped us through. What I wonder about is how I took you outside of time twice today, and you're not showing any effect."_

"Was!"

_"Oh, I knew you'd be okay. I just still don't understand how."_

"Das ist gut so, Kassandra," said Kurt, "aber, die anderen?"

_"They've regained consciousness, but are still feeling like they've got some jet lag."_

_"Still, did you have to do that, and knock Toynbee and the rest out while they couldn't fight back?"_

_"Kurt, the prosecutor and the witnesses are alive and safe, and I've held off the start of a genetic race war. Granted, the ends don't justify the means, but what would you have had me do?"_

"Ich wiße nicht, Liebste," said Kurt, pulling Kassandra close, winding his tail around her waist. _"I really don't know. But," _he said, smiling again, _"I'd like to figure out just how we managed to port like this."_

"Und ich auch," said Kassandra, smiling in return, _"Perhaps this is something we should ask Hank about. But I think the others are waiting for us. And I think we should all at least try to have some fun tonight."_

_"Is there something you're not telling me_?_" _ Kurt could hear Johnny Cash's version of "Hurt" emanating from an open car window.

_"Isn't there always?" _said Kassandra, trying in vain to lighten her own mood. Kurt frowned.

"Es tut mir leid, Kurt," she apologized. "_You know there are facts that we must face. For one thing, I am far from innocent in all this."_

_"That doesn't make you a murderer, though," _said Kurt, a little defensively.

_"And it's up to the jury to determine if that's even relevant, Kurt. Don't get your hopes up. You remember reading To Kill a Mockingbird, _nicht wahr?"

"Macht nichts, Liebling," said Kurt, noticing that whatever Kassandra expected would happen the next day horrified even her. "Du bist rechtig. _Let's try to enjoy what's left of the evening."_

_"But first, I should call Charles," _said Kassandra. _"He may already know we're okay, but I think he'd want to hear it directly from us." _She then picked up her cell phone. And hit redial.


	20. Chapter 20

Kurt and Kassandra entered Gregor's private banquet room to find Warren fussing over Lucy's insistence on examining his wings.

"I'm not hurt badly, and your mother can check for herself," he said.

"Nonsense," interjected Dr. Altheim. "I may be a medical doctor, but I've never worked on wing injuries."

"I, on the other hand, have," said Lucy. "And Warren, you should know me better than to think I'd mistake you for some martial eagle."

"Jackass penguin might be more like it," said Kassandra, with a merry little smirk. "And you flew about as well as one after Toad got a hold of you."

So Warren begrudgingly relented, but was thankful to hear he'd sustained nothing worse than the loss of several flight feathers and a strained humeral joint- "The avian one, of course," Lucy clarified. "And I'm amazed you weren't hurt worse. That must have been some fight you were in."

"And you all should have seen it!" said Kurt.

"Actually," said Kassandra, interrupting before Kurt could mention anything about what she'd done, "I'm rather glad they didn't."

And so they spent a short but otherwise remarkably pleasant evening. Very little else was said about the trial, though the subject was very much on everyone's mind, threatening to cast a pall over the evening. Instead, they talked about everything from the latest cute things Michael's children said, to a certain orphaned cheetah Lucy recently tagged and released into the wild, to Dr. Altheim's most recent visit to the _kraal_ where her own mother was raised, to the quality of the food, which was excellent due to the chef's enhanced senses of taste and smell. There was laughter in retelling the story of the first time Vincent tried to play soccer in his full Franciscan habit and sandals, and bickering, as when Warren shocked the Altheim women by insisting Kassandra should not pick up the tab.

"Warren," said Dr. Altheim, "if a Zulu woman offers you a pint of beer, you accept it. And if Kassandra wants to pay for dinner, you have to accept that!"

"Especially since this was my idea anyway, even if Jack suggested the place," Kassandra added.

After that was settled, Kassandra really did not want to leave. But she was a bit tired after the events of the day and could not be bothered to stretch out the moment. All agreed that it would be best if they retired for the evening, and Kurt saw Kassandra home, supposedly just in case trouble arose.

"_But you don't really expect any trouble, _nicht wahr?" said Kurt.

"Eigentlich, nein," said Kassandra, mischievously.

"Hätte ich auch nicht gedacht," said Kurt, gently squeezing her shoulder. And so they continued walking like that, by Kassandra's new parish, the salle where she'd tried to get in some occasional fencing practice, all the places of interest on their way back to her apartment.

"_So I knew you were spying on Black Air, but I didn't know you were actually in the Hellfire Club. Could you tell me more about that?" _asked Kurt.

"_There isn't much to say, _Liebster," Kassandra replied. _"Hanging around a bunch of power mad snobs and scantily clad Barbie dolls, that was the least exciting part of my mission. If I were into that sort of thing, I would have gone to Yale and joined Skull and Bones."_

"Wirklich?" said Kurt, amazed. _"Actually, I was wondering about how well you followed their dress code."_

"_Wouldn't you like to know," _said Kassandra, blushing.

"_So this is a bit of a long walk. Why didn't you get a place in the mutant district?" _Kurt asked, as they walked down the steps to her porch. _"Wasn't there any housing available there?"_

"Nein," said Kassandra. _"Not that it would make that much of a difference if there was. We didn't work so hard to overcome one kind of apartheid just so I could impose another upon myself."_

Kurt chuckled as he lightly brushed her lips with his. "Das ist mein Mädchen! So, _I hope you don't mind me bringing up the trial, but-"_

He felt her stiffen just enough to know he had to watch what he said.

"-_ the Director said you were good at avoiding compromising situations. Does that mean what I think it does?" _he asked.

Kassandra fumbled with her key before opening the door and letting herself in. "Kurt, du bist unmöglich. _I suppose you'd like to put me in one, _nicht wahr?"

Her efforts to be funny notwithstanding, Kurt could tell she was becoming quite agitated.

"_Well, theoretically speaking at least," _Kurt smiled, taking Kassandra in his arms and leaning in for another, more ardent kiss.

"Ich liebe dich, Kurt," said Kassandra, returning his kiss, then extricating herself from his embrace. "Gute nacht."

She quickly shut and locked the door, then fell back upon it, holding her fingers to her lips, tears streaming down her face.

"Du wißt, ich kann nicht dir verlaßen jetzt," said Kurt, teleporting in and now crouching before her. "_I was joking about compromising situations. Well, kind of. At any rate, it's far too early for you to begin solitary confinement."_


	21. Chapter 21

Xavier normally was not one to channel surf, let alone to watch any kind of television for more than the barest possible minimum amount of time. But after the events of the previous evening, in which he was by no means a remote, passive observer, he felt he needed to keep better tabs on Washington DC. And he figured there'd be lessons in this for the communication and pre-law students, as well as a civics lesson for the younger pupils. The same reporter that had so annoyed him last night was back on, live from the federal courthouse.

"All protests and pickets have been banned here as a result of the violent turn last night's pro-mutant demonstration," she said. Xavier cringed yet again.

"As it is," the reporter continued, "the mutant presence in this courthouse is, if anything, stronger than it was yesterday, with testimony delivered by Scott Summers, Alex Summers, Jubilation Lee, Robert Drake and Kurt Wagner, who, it's just been confirmed, is the son of the mutant terrorist code named Mystique."

As if that had any bearing whatsoever on Kurt's character, let alone upon this case. Xavier was not a vindictive sort. But he knew someone who would be interested in spearheading a class-action libel lawsuit. She had dropped a mental hint of it when she spoke with him last night.

" Also it has been rumored that the accused herself, Kassandra Altheim, will take the stand."

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"Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the bailiff intoned.

"I do," said Kassandra, firmly and quietly. She removed her hand from the Bible and walked to the witness stand as gracefully as she could in her shackles. The bailiff could not resist the instinct to offer her a hand up. He was a good old southern gentleman just shy of retirement. It was hard to forget his prejudices, but even harder to forget his manners. That she was a foreign-born mutant mattered less than the fact that she behaved very much like a regular lady. In fact, the only indication that she was anything but, besides the accusations against her, was the way she glared over reactions to that blue devil looking mutant taking the stand. But though she, like most women these days, would not admit to needing help up to the stand, she graciously accepted anyway. And thanked him.

And now she sat at the witness stand, right hand resting extended before her, the left tucked under her right forearm. Kurt looked upon her, via the closed circuit feed, of course, recalling the long conversation they'd had the night before. It was so like when her father had died. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do to help her through it. And was she? Yes, she was content just to have his friendship. And he never could deprive her of that, even during the times they spent oceans apart. Even when the time he spent on the phone with Kassandra after her grandfather died annoyed Amanda. And then there were other little things he was beginning to remember. Like the expensive phone call Kassandra made from Boston to Hong Kong, just to make sure he'd be okay after Amanda had finally left him.

"Kassandra," said Jack, approaching the witness stand, "what specifically was your mission with regard to Operation Conclave?"

"To expose and neutralize the threat the Church of Humanity posed to international security."

"Which was detailed in your reports as well as the testimony of at least five other witnesses. But why would a small religious sect pose such a threat? You and the others seemed so convinced that even if they had succeeded in setting up Mr. Wagner as a modern antipope, their plot was doomed to fail."

"Because the plot I got from the so-called supreme pontiff was not to just bring down the Catholic Church, but to play out the Church of Humanity's own misinterpretation of apocalyptic prophecy. This would have included bringing all religions together into a single ecclesiocracy, after bringing on a false rapture, then attempting to rid the world of mutants- and any non-mutants who wouldn't toe this new religion's line.

"Yes, of course this was doomed to a spectacular failure. And they knew it, too, at least the top three in command did. But it would have been a failure that would cost millions- rather than a few score- lives, if we didn't intervene. Do I need to reiterate everything they were under investigation for at the time, from no small amount of espionage of their own, to theft, assault, false imprisonment, and murder?"

"That won't be necessary," said Jack. "All that is already well documented and submitted to the jury.

"Now, did you plan out your attack on the Cathedral?"

"Agonized over it would be a better way of putting it," Kassandra replied, "but yes."

"Did you intend to kill anyone when you went there?"

"No."

"Thank you. No further questions."

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"Ach, das ist lächerlich," groaned Kassandra, throwing down her pen in frustration over filling out her applications for the FBI. "_If I'm not required to answer this question, why are they asking it in the first place?"_

"Was ist das?" said Kurt. He looked over her shoulder and smiled when he saw the question that irked her so.

"What is your race or ethnicity?" it said. "Check one- white, black or African American…." How on earth could a half-white, African born American immigrant answer a question like that honestly?

_"And would you look at that! Blue isn't listed at all," _said Kurt, in mock disappointment.

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Fitzsimmons now took her place before the witness stand, a little bit flustered. The judge had ruled while she questioned Kurt Wagner that questions about his relationship with Mystique were irrelevant, so she knew that inquiring about the rumored closeness between the accused and the son of a terrorist would not get her anywhere. Still, as long as the defendant was being this cooperative, there was still potential to extract some damning testimony from her. "Miss Altheim, what was your first position with the government?"

"I served as a criminal profiler for the FBI."

"And is it true that you were accepted because of what they regarded as your psychic skills?"

"Yes."

"Are you psychic?"

"No."

"Did you tell anyone in the Bureau that?"

"No."

"Did you ever tell them that you were a mutant?"

"They asked if I had any special abilities, not whether or not I was a mutant. I didn't think it was relevant how I came by my abilities, and I didn't want to risk exposing myself to workplace discrimination. So no, I didn't tell them. Just like I didn't answer questions about my ethnicity."

"Well, now that everyone knows you are a mutant anyway, what exactly are your abilities?"

"Where to begin?" said Kassandra, the ghost of a smile flickering across her face. "I like distance running. I'm a pretty good fencer. I'm one of the few women trained in the Zulu martial art of umshiza. I can speak seven languages. People tell me I play the piano pretty well. And, oh, yes. I also have accelerated healing, and I can control time."

Fitzsimmons had to wait for the muffled laughter from the defendant's family to subside. "So you do not have the gift of telepathy or precognition?"

"No."

"Strange how the FBI would get the impression that you were. Why was that?"

"Because I can, under the right circumstances, find out about the past just by looking at the right timelines, and I can see and anticipate the future as it takes shape."

"Now I'm going to have to trust you here, but could you provide a demonstration for the court?"

"Is that entirely necessary?" said Judge Montgomery. "I heard she gave a fine demonstration last night outside the courthouse."

"Nothing the jury or I saw, however," said Fitzsimmons.

"Very well. Bailiff, please remove the defendant's inhibitors," said the judge.

Kassandra found it a pleasant break to be relieved of the inhibitors. They gave her a bit of a headache. And while they did hinder her, she seemed to have Wolverine's resistance. In fact, while she would not reveal that, the only reason they appeared to work was because she let them.

"Now," said Fitzsimmons, "Do you agree that we have not collaborated on arranging this demonstration and that you haven't spoken to me outside the grand jury investigation and this courtroom?"

"Yes," said Kassandra.

"Very well. Tell me something about my future."

"Your most probable future," said Kassandra. "Nothing's definite until it happens. But…" she blinked. "…Okay, I am certain about this. Your biopsy will come back negative."

Fitzsimmons stared agape for a second. She certainly hoped this was right. At the very least, the accused had picked up on just what had been on her mind the most lately. But she quickly regained her composure, as Kassandra expected. And much to her credit. But as the bailiff replaced the inhibitors, Kassandra didn't need full use of her powers to see where this was headed. She braced herself.

"So," said Fitzsimmons, "when you went to confront the Church of Humanity, did you anticipate the probability that you would kill these people?"

"Yes."

"And yet you went there anyway?"

"That was because something worse-"

"Answer the question."

"Yes, of course I did," said Kassandra.

"And you were aware of Lorna Dane's violent state of mind at the time you specifically told Cyclops of the X-Men to bring her along for the raid?"

"Yes, I was."

"Why, then, did you ask to bring her into a situation in which you knew she was likely to kill?"

"Shockingly enough, that was the option likely to result in the least bloodshed. Normally I don't go on about what would have happened, because once something happens, the alternatives become irrelevant. But if she hadn't gone and killed their snipers, Scott, Kurt, Bobby, and Alex would have been killed, and likely Jean and Logan, too. And that cult would have gone on with some adapted and more dangerous form of their original plan."

"So do you think good intentions justified you acting outside of your government authorization, and taking command of a band of mutants?"

"No, I don't think good intentions justify much of anything on their own, particularly something like this. I am sorry."

"Thank you, Miss Altheim," said Fitzsimmons. "No further questions."


	22. Chapter 22

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," said Fitzsimmons, "from the time Miss Altheim lied to the FBI about not being a mutant, she has proven risky to national and international security, and eventually a threat to human lives every time she gets into a scrape. And in the rare instance when the people have reason to believe she is being completely honest, she admits openly to being responsible for all these deaths. That she premeditated these crimes. While she may claim that her intent was to prevent further bloodshed, we have little evidence supporting the allegations that the Church of Humanity posed such a threat to the world as she suggested. Whatever her intentions, her intent was clear- to complete her mission regardless of the cost, even if it meant violating orders and at the expense of innocent people's lives.

Ladies and gentlemen, while you deliberate, consider the following. The men who died because of this mutant may have been pawns in an evil scheme. But that does not mean they deserve to die. And consider the precedent any leniency might set. If you decide, despite the evidence, that the accused is not guilty, what's to prevent mutants, in the government or otherwise, from taking the law into their own hands? Every law would be rendered pointless, and our nation, our civilization, our way of life, will give way to chaos and vigilantism. On behalf of humanity, I thank you in advance for your role in removing this woman from the general population."

Fitzsimmons resumed her seat, and Jack stood to address the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, my esteemed counterpart brought up an interesting point when she mentioned intent and premeditation. As you know, the prerequisites for being convicted of these charges are motive, intent, and premeditation. Sure, Kassandra had motive. Her testimony and the reports submitted for your consideration make that abundantly clear. But think about how you'd react if your church leaders were threatened, your friends and loved ones kidnapped, assaulted, enslaved, or even murdered. That happened, yes, and by the same people who twice tried to kill her even before they knew she was a mutant. So yes, she had motive.

"But as for intent, we also have in her reports as well as the testimony of several witnesses now that her intent was, at worst, that of someone plotting the surrender of enemy combatants who had declared war upon all mutants and their sympathizers. Bear in mind, the supreme pontiff had issued statements openly declaring war upon mutantkind. Only after she tried to negotiate with the very people who were, at that same moment, firing upon her, did she finally react- to defend herself. The evidence, such as her behavior at St. James' Hospital, actually proves that she did not intend to kill anyone.

"And as for premeditation, that also has not been proven beyond a reasonable doubt. There is a tremendous difference between planning to commit a felony, and knowing the likelihood that you might do something terrible in the fulfillment of your mission, and trying to avoid having to do so.

"The same goes for the other charges. We cannot say beyond a reasonable doubt that she is a traitor when the evidence overwhelmingly shows that in this, she was motivated actually by loyalty to the ideals of our nation.

"Ladies and gentleman, your duty is to find my client guilty only if the evidence is convincing beyond all reasonable doubt. If there is any doubt in your mind whatsoever, the Constitution dictates that we must presume innocence, and acquit."

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Gamesmaster normally was not interested in wasting concentration on anything after being defeated once. But the proposal of that extradimensional character with the tertiary mutations and the nigh-impregnable psi-blocks intrigued him. For a chance to play such an important role in the upcoming war of mutant ascendancy, he was willing to make another attempt.

"Kassandra, ist alles in Ordnung?" Vincent asked. He did not like one bit the look Kassandra's face took on as they prepared to leave the courthouse.

"Oh, ja," she replied. "Warum nicht?" Indeed, why not? While she had been raked over the coals and very much dreaded the verdict, she looked forward to this evening. Evening Mass at St. Philip Howard's with Kurt, Mama, Lucy, Vincent, and Michael, then meeting all the others for supper. And after that, whether to have some fun on the town, turn each to more prayer, or ideally some combination of both remained to be seen. At any rate, it was more time with family and friends, and she was not about to let her apprehension, no matter how much it made sense, ruin it. But this sudden depression- and the urge to hide it rather than get it out of her system- she had no idea where that came from. And that frightened her.

Vincent remained unconvinced. Maybe Kassandra could lie with the easy composure necessary to pass a polygraph examination, but emotional distance while among people near and dear to her was not normal.

_"Level with me, _Schwesterlein," said Vincent.

"_Only if you stop calling me that." _ Kassandra lightly punched him in the shoulder as they strolled out. On their way, they overheard Trish Tilby reporting.

"Yes, the testimony that has been delivered today does shed new light on the evidence, and if the jury does indeed hold no bias, things look very good for the defense…"

Kassandra sighed with relief. _"Well, it appears I've accomplished what I intended."_

"_And the rest is in God's hands now," _Vincent replied.

Not if the Gamesmaster had anything to do with it.

"_Still, maybe Mama or Lucy should stay with me tonight. I'm not feeling quite like myself," _said Kassandra.


	23. Chapter 23

"We have joining us now from Washington DC Dr. Valerie Cooper, and Evangeline Whedon of the Mutant Rights Coalition…"

"Bist du still wach?" Lucy asked. After a long final day of testimony, the day was far from over. They had said a rosary on the Luminous Mysteries while in Adoration, and stuck around for evening Mass as planned. Then Kurt reminded Kassandra, not that she needed it, that she offered to show him around Washington DC, and he hoped that would include some nightlife.

_"And we can pray all the while that this won't be our last opportunity for all of us to enjoy this time together," _he said, with a sad, knowing smile that no one but Kassandra seemed to understand. And so, after supper with the others, yet again at Gregor's, they caught a swing band called Hybrid Vigor playing at the Helix, a new and refreshingly non-segregated club near the famous Lincoln Theater. And all that seemed to lift Kassandra's spirit a bit. Or so Lucy thought.

"Ich kann nicht schlafen," said Kassandra, her eye still on CNN. _"I'd been having the most terrible dreams."_

"Kassandra, _you were successful. Now that everyone's talking about how that cult was genuinely dangerous rather than just misunderstood, nobody will ever again try to pull what they did. And most everyone's saying after Jack's closing statements, it looks like you might be home free."_

"Wir können hoffen," said Kassandra, dryly. Indeed, throughout the whole trial, Jack couldn't have done a better job if he was Gregory Peck playing Atticus Finch.

_"Such is the life of a mutant, _Ich verstehe," said Lucy. _"You know what I had observed among my hyenas lately? The family groups started behaving aggressively toward certain solitaries. And we also had a case of one clan turning against another. I'd never seen anything like it. But I also noticed their social structure is suffering as a direct result."_

_"That's abnormal for them, _nicht wahr?" said Kassandra. _"And people think we're so much smarter than the animals."_

_"Now try not to get too cynical. I don't think Kurt would like that." _Lucy finally got Kassandra's full attention. "_Speaking of Kurt, I'm surprised you didn't ask him to stay with you."_

"_Well, I may have been the difficult child, but I got Mama's point- why she had us both help at the hospital, and why she and _Ugogo_ insisted we learn _umshiza_. And espionage is never like the James Bond movies, anyway, you can rest assured of that. For some reason, right now I can't trust myself to avoid being impulsive. Like I said, I'm not feeling quite like myself. But I suppose my feelings have been pretty obvious."_

"Oh, ja, sehr klar_. And also the way he looked at you, danced with you, insisted yet again on walking you home even though we all had a ride-"_

"_You know I prefer walking or running anyway."_

"Ja doch, _especially if it means more time alone with Kurt, _nicht wahr?"

Kassandra blushed. Lucy had her and Kurt both pegged.

"_Anyway it was as if he was wondering if he should start negotiating_ lobola_. We suspected, oh, ever since you came to your senses about John, that it was just a matter of time before you and Kurt kicked the friendship up a notch."_

"Ich weiß. _Michael told me he had planned to ask Kurt for no _lobola _other than a promise to keep me out of trouble. But that would be a bit much, _nicht wahr?" said Kassandra, sardonically. "_Not that it matters."_

"Kassandra, _this depression or whatever, especially after we've all had such a great time, is so not like you. No more watching the news. How about..?" _Lucy began changing channels. Mostly news. Some infomercials. The only thing remotely good on included _Law and Order _reruns, a Metropolitan Opera production of _Bluebeard's Castle_, and, on AMC, _The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. _

And as if a dam finally ruptured, Kassandra finally burst into tears.

As if to make up for that annoying tendency to evade telepathy, Gamesmaster found toying with this girl's emotions delightfully easy- at least as long as that telepathic friend of hers wasn't on guard. He didn't need to even project anything, just direct her focus to some things she was already feeling. But there were more important things for him to concentrate on than just having his own kind of fun.

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The call came far too early the next morning.

"Kassandra, I'm afraid the jury has already finished deliberation," said Jack.

"And it doesn't look good, nicht wahr?" said Kassandra.

"I may be good, but not that good," said Jack.

"Can I clean up the apartment and say goodbye to the Slawsons first?"

Kassandra filed into the courthouse with her family, all looking somewhat the worse for wear. But instead of proceeding to the courtroom, all decided they were going to sit in the mutants' gallery. Security followed them frantically in there, protesting.

"I'm a mutant, aren't I?" snapped Kassandra. "And if you will not let all my friends sit in the courtroom like you do for other defendants, I will seize what few rights I can."

"Während sie still kann,"thought Kurt, as he took his seat behind her, beside her mother. All rose as Judge Montgomery entered and took her place at the bench, then resumed their seats. And with minimal fuss, she asked if the jury had reached a verdict.

They had.

Kurt braced himself. He would have liked to leave his hand resting on Kassandra's shoulder, but she had to stand yet again. On her own. That just seemed so wrong. And he could see in her face and posture, as well as feel in his own knotted stomach, that knowing it would likely come down to this didn't make facing the reality any easier. But Dr. Altheim, for once sitting right behind her daughter and yet powerless to protect her was trembling. Michael held one hand. Kurt took the other, giving thanks that Logan had the presence of mind to decide he really should not be there.

"Very well," said Judge Montgomery. "How do you find?"

"On the first charge, murder in the first degree," said the foreman, "we find the defendant, Kassandra Altheim..,"

Kurt nearly winced in pain as Dr. Altheim's grip tightened, her fingers digging into his.

And the probability solidified into certainty. The verdict was delivered. Each word the same, like one of Wolverine's clawed fists to the stomach, times forty.

Guilty. Kassandra's knees buckled, but a stone-faced Jack steadied her. Dr. Altheim's face blenched. Havok and Archangel both were aghast. Michael sat still, but for his mouth and forehead, contorting with every repetition of the word.

"Oh, no, no, no." Cyclops wasn't even particularly fond of Kassandra, but he knew Jean was already unhappy about this. And he found himself losing his resolve to be a strong example for Jubilee, who clearly wondered just what evidence the jury saw, but for once had her mouth tightly shut against the raging conniptions that threatened to erupt. Jubilee was at least thankful that wherever Logan tended to run off to at times like these, it was usually far away from people and property in general. Matching almost Logan's own ferocity was the torrent of tears Lucy shed, sobbing on Vincent's own quaking shoulder.

Amid the courtroom celebrations Miranda Eastman found increasingly morbid and distasteful, she looked toward the monitor, on which she could see the devastation in the mutants' gallery. She couldn't imagine herself feeling any sympathy for the girl who made mincemeat of her sons, but at the very least for the sake of her mother, brothers, and sister, couldn't the foreman have just read "Guilty on all charges," instead of reading out all forty of them, one by one, drawing it out like this?

A guilty verdict on forty felony charges, fifteen of which were capital offenses. Kurt looked upon Kassandra through his own tears. He wanted to reassure Kassandra. The fencing practices. The way Kassandra blushed when he'd compliment her. Movies, conversations, letters, and moments when all he wanted to do was hear her music. And finally the kisses. So cruel that he would reclaim all his memories of his dear friend and eventual beloved, for her to then be torn from him like this. But he knew the possibilities, and he would not have given up any of that just to make this moment easier. He wanted to tell her that, or say something, anything, to be of comfort, but the lump in his own throat got in the way. Kassandra had regained her footing, if not entirely her composure. She stood, head down, eyes half shut, tears streaming down her own face, her mouth moving almost inaudibly.

"Es tut mir leid. Es tut mir leid. Vergeben mir, Mama, Kurt…" She whispered.


	24. Chapter 24

"I have Jack White with me right now," said Trish Tilby. Behind her Kassandra could be seen, shackled, wearing inhibitors, being walked toward a waiting police car.

"Mr. White," said Miss Tilby, "what do reactions do you and Miss Altheim expect to the verdict that was delivered today?"

"Well," Jack replied, "there's what we expect, and what we hope. Two completely different things. We expect that people who take issue with mutants sharing the world with them will feel emboldened to act upon their hatred. And we expect that mutants and their supporters will feel angry, perhaps betrayed by our justice system."

Ja, that was about right, Kassandra reflected. She could feel that as well, increasing with every step she took toward the car. Jack looked that way, too. Confused and almost despondent. Never mind the confident assurances he just gave before they left that he thought most of those convictions would be overturned on appeal. None of this made sense. And that pushed Kassandra even further into despair. Was the whole world going emotionally unstable along with her?

_Warum bemühst du. Dein leben, wie du es kennst, ist irgenwie vorbei. _That thought, barely more than a mental articulation of her increasing despondence- where did that come from, verdammt? This would be so much easier if only Kassandra could remove the inhibitors. If only her hands were free. Oh well. Kassandra grit her teeth and tried to redirect her own thoughts. _Gott, mein Kopf tut mir weh. _

Okay, _Oh, mei_ this burned, but all she needed was to resist enough to interrupt the flow of electricity, and then, so far so good. Right as Gamesmaster planned. But now that she could trace his thought, she'd tell its source she would not cooperate. In No Uncertain Terms.

"This does indeed show we have much work to ensure equal treatment for mutants, yes." Suddenly, Jack's thoughts cleared, and though he still felt quite low and now light-headed to boot, this mysterious urge to mention nothing of hopes for peaceful reactions and successful appeals had subsided. The hard resolve he felt once he recovered from the shock of the verdict returned. "However, on behalf of the Altheims and the victims' families alike, I think it's safe to say we all want everyone to resist acting out of their fear or anger. We do not want any more bloodshed."

The air was pierced by a sudden shriek.

"It looks as if we've already got some commotion right behind you," said Trish's anchor. "Can you see what's going on?"

"I'll find out. Thank you, Jack. Excuse me. Sir?" Trish got the attention of a police officer. "What happened here?"

"Get them off me! GET THEM OFF ME!" Kassandra screeched, amid a flurry of sparks, some of them already smoldering in her hair and clothing.

"Apparently some kind of inhibitor malfunction," said the police officer.

BAMF!

"Kassandra, wartst du," said Kurt, finding himself sitting in the back of a police car, his arms and tail still firmly wrapped around Kassandra. While he had managed to teleport her out of her shackles and inhibitors, this was nowhere near where he intended to take her.

"Sei unbesorgt, Kurt. _I haven't restarted time yet. They can't see us."_

"Aber, warum sind wir hier?"

_"Kurt, We've already talked about this," _said Kassandra._ "We need to prove that we don't think being mutant makes us above the law. I know I already have my work cut out for me there, but running will just make things worse."_

_"But the appeals process could take years, and we're still not sure if I'll be able to keep seeing you. _Und das-_"_

_"You know I did not want you to get hurt."_

"Ja. _And you made sure I knew the chances. But it doesn't make things any easier. Still-"_ He ran his velvety fingertips over Kassandra's forehead, where the sparks from one of the malfunctioning inhibitors had singed her. Not a single scorch mark was left. _"You've healed wonderfully." _

_"Not the way I need to the most. _Aber du willst, Liebster, bei-" she couldn't bring herself to say the rest.

"Beizeiten?_"_ Kurt smiled sadly, all too aware of the double meaning.

_"Besides, I still have another card to play. Meanwhile, _Liebster, _you know I'm freezing this moment for a reason." _Kassandra twined her fingers through Kurt's indigo hair._ "Don't waste it." _

And with the entire universe still and faded around them, she gently drew Kurt closer.

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Kurt stepped out of the car and back into time, the soft warmth, pressure, and the taste of what he hoped would not be Kassandra's final kiss still lingering, seeming to transcend any temporal barrier.

"She's all right," Kurt announced.

"But where did you take her?" said the police officer.

"Right here," Kassandra shouted, sitting up in the back of the police car, trying in vain to tidy her hair.

And with that, the door was closed, and Kassandra was driven away.


	25. Chapter 25

"So, Kassandra," said Jack, "would you care to explain to me what happened the other night? Just as your inhibitors went on the fritz, I felt like, just for a moment, everything stopped around me. Then I felt sick. And this seems like just the sort of thing you'd do."

"Well, I admit I owe you at least an explanation and my apologies Jack," said Kassandra, over the telephone. "But the instant I could see it, I had to act. I traced a very subtle thought articulating exactly how I felt. And well, you ever felt so out of character that you wonder if your feelings or thoughts are even your own?"

"As a matter of fact…" said Jack.

"You were under telepathic influence to deliver a speech so depressing that you'd incite violence without even trying. I had to break it. Of course, this same person was trying to manipulate me, too. Would you believe I almost felt like hurting myself?"

"Well…"

"Okay, that was a bad way of putting it. No, I actually do not have a death wish. That's why we will appeal this, nicht wahr?"

"All right, but you couldn't resist pulling that other stunt?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's already all over the gossip columns and the tabloids. 'Kassandra's Cop Car Canoodle.' 'A Dimensional Dalliance?' And that's just the stuff I can stand to quote back to you. You mother apparently saw some of it; stuff about you emerging from that teleport partially clothed and with your hair messed up, and called me up, livid. She's saying we should add them to your already burgeoning list of libel suits. What I want to know is do you think we have a case, or is she in denial over something?"

Kassandra could see this coming. Still, she blushed furiously. "I had sparks flying all over my hair and jacket. Of course I'd look a bit disheveled! And it's amazing how I can't even kiss someone goodbye, outside of time, when no one could even see us anyway, without people jumping to conclusions. The- the very idea that I could be so… that Kurt would…"

"Right. I get your point," said Jack. "Anyway, you should then reassure your mother that you haven't completely lost all good sense. And can I trust you to behave until I get back from Vancouver?"

"Absolutely!" said Kassandra. "I've got a surprise for the sentencing hearing that I wouldn't want to spoil, anyway."

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Kurt had had a terrible night's sleep. It wasn't that his dreams were that bad. He had just been up late helping the Altheims sort through the few things Kassandra had left behind.

"Hier, Kurt," Lucy said, handing him a plain box with her right hand, her left hand under the forearm. "_Kassandra wanted you to have this."_

It was a simple framed eight by ten picture.

"Mein Lieber Kurt," said the note that came with it. _"I never actually needed to get close enough to the Inner Circle to have to wear this in the Hellfire Club, but I knew you'd like to see it. As for the regular membership dress code, would you believe they thought the beadwork _isidwaba _I've worn to the Reed Festival was immodest? This from girls who got plastic surgery so they could look better, running around in their underwear!"_

And while she was quite thoroughly covered, she was by no means dressed like a proper eighteenth century lady. Rather her loose canvas shirt and petticoat breeches, the bandana holding back her wild curls, the high sea boots, the sword belt, the bandoliers heavy with flintlocks and dagger, and most of all her bearing made her look like she'd have been quite at home serving on the deck of an eighteenth century privateer. And in one leather gloved fist, she wielded that beautiful adamantium sabre, the one engraved with "Hebräer 4:12."

Logan returned from wherever he was sometime that night. "Heard the verdict, Elf. You gonna keep brooding or drown your sorrows with me?"

And over their beer, little was said, except when Logan asked, "Missin' her already, again?"

Again? That's right. Except for the few years Kurt and Kassandra were both at the Institute, a steady stream of emails, long-distance phone calls, and chatty, affectionate letters in blue airmail envelopes characterized most of the time they'd known each other. Punctuated by visits that never came often enough, and all too rarely seemed to last longer than a couple bouts of fencing and an Errol Flynn movie marathon. _Auf Wiedersehens _accompanied by long and, until recently, entirely platonic, though strangely no less loving, embraces. But this time things were different, _nicht wahr? _"Ja," said Kurt.

"They ain't gonna kill her, Elf," said Logan, "if that's what's buggin' you."

"I know," said Kurt. "But that is not what's bothering either of us." He had put his great, thick, blue finger right on it. There were worse things that could happen to a mutant than death. He had seen it himself at X-Corps headquarters in Paris. While he was grateful for Logan's support, no amount of alcohol could dull his apprehension. And when he finally did turn in, his dreams turned to Kassandra and what she said when she held him, the two of them both caught up outside of time. To not waste the moment. In one of the letters of hers that he kept, she stressed the importance of remembering. And the way she always signed her letters. How was it? _Dein' immer? _What exactly did she mean with that?

A call from Warren, who had already returned to New York, awakened Kurt far too early the next morning. There was trouble with Husk's family back in Kentucky, and it looked like the Guthries could use all the help they could get.


	26. Chapter 26

After dealing with the crisis triggered by young Josh Guthrie's star-crossed love, Kurt had a short reprieve. He returned to the Institute to find a letter for him, from inmate 50471, Red Onion State Prison. On the complete opposite side of Virginia, but supposedly the nearest prison capable of handling the perceived risks of incarcerating Kassandra.

Mein Lieber Kurt,

_ So here is the first and hopefully only letter you will get from this address. By the time you get this, I will have just had a nice visit with Mama, Michael, and Lucy. Unfortunately, Vincent has not been approved to visit. They say he is a security risk. _Unglaublich, nicht wahr? (Und Gott sei dank, _some of the people this letter has to get past know German. I couldn't sneak anything past them if I wanted, and nobody can accuse me of trying just because I'm writing in our language.) Anyway, Vincent went to a bit of trouble to arrange for Mama to take Communion to me. And the guards have told me that that's an unusual privilege for an inmate here._

_ I really should not say too much about the accommodations. But I am kept in, _ja_, this is what they call it, _"segregation" _here. Which means I am denied many privileges, such as talking with you over the phone, but I do get (and I am trying to look on the bright side, here) lots of time to myself. And I can't complain about how other inmates and guards have treated me. While I would prefer to do without this notoriety, I suppose that's one advantage to it. But they've added some extra security measures as well and have told me in no flattering terms that I should not be here. In light of that, don't count on being allowed to visit. And be thankful that I will be here only until sentencing. _

_ Speaking of the sentencing, it's entirely up to you if you want to be there. If you choose to go, I'd suggest bringing a handkerchief, a bucket, and smelling salts. After that, I don't expect where I'll be transferred to be much better. And Logan will not like it one bit. Let's continue praying for a successful appeals process._

_  
And yes, that will take a while. I can't even begin to guess how long, as I have not been using my powers here. Remember our agreement about this. Or rather, our disagreement. I know you still intend to wait. I still anticipate nothing but misery if you take that course of action, though part of me appreciates that you want to try. I am grateful for the time we've had together. I still agree this was worth the grief of parting. And even if our relationship has to again change course, even if picking up where we left off in the unlikely event that I get out anytime soon will not be as simple as me stepping back into your life, you have always at the very least been _mein Lieblingsfreund._ I have determined that that will never change. And I hope to similarly remain _dein' immer.

-Zeitgeist

Kurt noticed no small number of splotches and smudges where apparently tears splashed upon the paper. And by the knot in his throat, he suspected that a few of them were from him. He quickly shoved the letter away, his head in one hand.

"Kurt?" A deep, regal-sounding contralto drew his attention to the tall, shapely silhouette in his doorway. Ororo Munroe, with her preternaturally blue eyes and white halo of hair, and outer beauty that paled compared to her inner strength, could not help but command attention and respect. It was easy to see how her Masai tribespeople came to regard her as a weather goddess. "The team has combat simulation planned in the danger room. Care to join us?"

Kurt sighed. It always was hard to say no to Ororo. And she would not make it any easier.

"I also got a letter from Kassandra," she said. "She requested that if we think you are spending too much time brooding, that I pull rank as your new team leader and insist upon you having some fun with the rest of us."

"Very well." Kurt rose from his desk and left with Ororo. "With the loveliest ladies in my life now conspiring together, I do believe I am powerless to resist anyway." And if Kassandra was arranging for his other friends to be extra supportive in her stead, the least he could do was be there for her sentencing. And hopefully steal one more moment with her for the long, uncertain road ahead.

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"Before we commence," said Beast, "can I have some assurance that the mitigating details I will disclose will not be shared with the media?"

"A reasonable request," said Judge Montgomery. "I will order the jury and anyone in the courtroom to not divulge the details of this testimony, on pain of facing charges for contempt and possibly for defamation, slander, or libel. Now please proceed."

"So, Dr. McCoy," said Fitzsimmons, "exactly what qualifies you to deliver this report on these supposedly mitigating circumstances?"

"In the first place, I have known Kassandra's parents for years as esteemed colleagues and trusted friends. Since Kassandra started attending school Stateside, I took over as her primary physician. And together, her mother, Dr. Jean Grey, and I researched treatments to minimize the medical hazards her mutation posed."

"It says here, in one of her earliest FBI reports, that she had a rare medical condition that was treated successfully with a stem cell transplant from an unnamed accelerated healer," said Fitzsimmons. "So you pioneered this treatment?"

"Yes. The treatment was successful. But we could only make educated guesses as to the side effects she'd experience. And it turned out we guessed correctly. Not only did the transplant minimize the risks temporal manipulation posed to her, but it gave her the same accelerated healing capabilities her donor has."

"And this is a mitigating factor to be considered in sentencing, because…" said Fitzsimmons.

Beast's calm look and delivery belied his own consternation at being put in this particular spot. "If the jury recommends the death penalty, how do you suppose the sentence could be carried out?"

Kurt once again clutched Dr. Altheim's hand. He now understood just what Kassandra meant about what to bring to the sentencing hearing. Lucy, Michael, and Vincent looked more than a little worried. But they did not yet realize the implications the way Kurt and Dr. Altheim did. "Oh, iNkosi," Dr. Altheim moaned, shaking, looking nauseous.

Beast became a bit more animated. "Now, of course Dr. Altheim and I are not thoroughly versed on how to kill mutants, as it has been our business to preserve lives, but other sources have hypothesized that it is possible to kill an accelerated healer of Kassandra's capabilities by beheading, bleeding out, live cremation, or disintegration."

At that, the blood drained even from Miranda Eastman's face. Disintegration, according to her sons' hospital records, was not a mercifully instantaneous way to go, nor was it painless. How long would the other methods take to kill her? Burning her alive? That was just out of the question. Sure, the girl may not have been human, but Miranda was sure even vicious animals did not deserve to die like that. And supposedly, those whom she did not kill instantly she was desperate to save. Why…

"Wouldn't standard, legal execution methods work if her powers were inhibited?" Fitzsimmons asked.

"Theoretically speaking, yes," said Beast, "if she'd allow that to happen. Along with the healing factor, she received a resistance to anything that could hamper her, like drugs or inhibitor technology. If she does not want an inhibitor to work, the tiniest warp in time is all she requires to disrupt and overload the system."

Pandemonium erupted in the courtroom, as the jurors recognized the implications of recommending a death sentence, some of them turning quite green at the prospect.

"Order!" snapped Judge Montgomery, rapping her gavel. "Ms. Fitzsimmons, please continue."

"So why is it that she's not breaking through the inhibitors now. How is it that we've had no report of her doing likewise over at Red Onion?"

"Your hypothesis is as good as mine," said Beast. "Perhaps for the same reason other convicts might not plot their escape."

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The jury took even less time deliberating on a sentence than they did on the verdict. The mandatory minimum sentence for the burglary charge, and 39 life sentences to be served concurrently. At an undisclosed mutant detention facility. So she would at least live. Kurt noticed that while most of the family broke into silent sighs and sobs of simultaneous grief and relief, Kassandra's face looke surprisingly grim, even during the grievous and seemingly inappropriate Auf Wiedersehens she exchanged with her family. Until Kurt grabbed her shoulder and whispered, "Ich verstehe. Das ist nicht notwendigerweise beßer, nicht wahr?"

Kassandra's face crumpled. "Vielleicht beßer. Aber nur ein Bißchen." And she allowed him one last, discrete, little peck before being pulled from his grasp and escorted away.


	27. Chapter 27

Trish Tilby hadn't been this excited in a long time, and her distinguished career had given her plenty of cause for excitement. She had been asked specifically to conduct an exclusive interview, and…

"I'd like to welcome to our studio Father Vincent Altheim and Lucy Altheim Pulayantlha, siblings of the so-called Cathedral Killer, Kassandra Altheim."

After the pleasantries were exchanged, Trish tried to gently start into the questions. Preparing this interview was not easy in the least. Most of the questions suggested to her just seemed so crass and morbid, especially when she finally came face to face with her guests. She hoped they were feeling particularly talkative, otherwise, this would be a much shorter interview than she expected. How was Kassandra, growing up? No, that was a terrible way of putting it, talking about her as if she had died. How was growing up with her? Better. She asked that.

Good. She heard stories of life with a girl who could be difficult and temperamental, and had, due to her circumstances, a firmly entrenched habit of calculated secretiveness. Some heartwarming anecdotes of life with a funny and basically kind-hearted sort. And some rather alarming stories, such as how she kept the manifestation of her mutant abilities secret for three years, and how acting on her sense of justice and adventure had on more than one occasion put herself and others in danger.

"But of course," said Vincent, "things almost always turned out for the best in the end."

"Almost being a key word, right?" said Trish, somewhat sympathetically.

Lucy and Vincent both nodded morosely.

"What has she been up to lately? Is there any truth to the stories that she is suing several news sources for libel?"

"Yes," said Lucy and Vincent, almost in emphatic unison.

"But we can't really say much more about that, since the lawsuits are pending," said Lucy. "I haven't had a chance to speak with her since the sentencing, anyway."

"And I haven't been allowed to speak with her at all since the verdict," said Vincent. "She also was not allowed to speak with any other priest, on account of the supposed security threat posed if one were to hear her Confession. I'm afraid she has been allowed no privacy and limited freedom of religion."

"So whom has she been allowed to see?"

"Just Jack, Michael, Mama, and me," said Lucy. "Jack can see her any time, as her attorney. And we can visit every weekend and on holidays. Which would be fine if any of us actually lived on this continent!"

"How about any of her friends?"

"Most of her friends," said Vincent, "are people she's known from her work or fellow mutants. In other words, more security risks."

"Including Kurt Wagner?"

"Especially Kurt Wagner," said Vincent. "If I'm not allowed to visit on account of posing some security risk, there is no way they're letting a teleporter in. But Kassandra has been putting a lot of pressure on the Department of Corrections to allow us and a few other close friends on her approved visitors' list."

"Now, you, Father, I can understand, as you are Kassandra's brother," said Trish. "But as for Kurt Wagner, is there any truth to the stories that the two of them have been an item?"

Lucy spoke up. "Kurt has been a dear friend to all of us for years, especially over the course of this trial. Whether he's been involved with my sister or not is irrelevant. Of course it would mean a lot to her if he could visit."

There were a few more questions, most of which pertained to how Kassandra was holding up in prison. As well as could be expected, considering the bad food, the constant headache she suffered from wearing the inhibitors, and how, on days when she was allowed outside, she could not even run fast enough to give her a good workout. In other words, not good. And the isolation she'd suffer once her family tried to resume their normal lives in Namibia. But how Lucy responded to the questions about Kurt remained in his mind long after he'd finished watching that interview, confirming that this separation would, if anything, be harder on Kassandra than it was on him.

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Kassandra endured an insufferably long drive, hooded and fighting off the effects of a continuous stream of wetware coursing through her veins. Not soon enough, she felt herself pulled out of the car, then roughly walked through what sounded like endless spiraling corridors and staircases. Finally, she was dumped into a chair. The hood was unceremoniously yanked off her head, along with a handful of hair.

"Ach!" Kassandra recoiled from the light that assaulted her dilated pupils. Then, _Linderung, endlich!_ The inhibitors were removed, and the feeling that her entire nervous system was compressed in an allover vice grip abated. She took a deep breath, took a moment, and then shut her eyes briefly, trying to relax. No such luck. An officer jabbed another needle into her arm.

"Verdammt! Would you stop that?" she cried, wincing.

"Why?" said a man's voice from the darkness behind that infernally bright lamp. "What difference does another dose of mutant suppressant make, when it seems to wear off so quickly in you?"

"Because you know well it hurts about as badly as those inhibitors," said Kassandra. It wasn't as if she'd never before been on this end of an interrogation, but the fight against the drug's effect made her very irritable. "And, meaning no disrespect, but the officer wasn't quite quick enough with the needle. I know where I am, despite your best efforts, and I can also guess what you want from me."

"Very good, then," said a woman. "Of course, you made this more difficult by going public, but we may still have some use for you. Perhaps even eventually as a field operative, if you can behave. And I am sure you can anticipate what will happen if you do not consent to helping us out."

It was true. And the prospect of her even having a say in this would not have been possible had she not behaved so cooperatively even in the oppressive conditions at Red Onion. Still, that amount of control she was given over her situation looked like it could be just rope enough for her to hang herself. What were her options? To deliberately choose to work under their thumb, or for them to physically and psychologically torture compliance out of her? Maybe target those near and dear to her if she herself proved too strong- which she knew she would. She had to restrain the urge to think out loud. Clever of them, to shoot her full of sodium pentathol as well as mutant suppressant drugs. If she didn't blurt out her thoughts, she'd at least be more vulnerable to telepathy- at the moment, anyway.

"I'll let you know what my decision is when the drugs wear off, and not a second sooner," said Kassandra. "All right?"

There appeared to be some disagreement on the matter. Kassandra thought she overheard the woman whisper something like, "It's the same reason why we can't use memory implants on her… Yes, allowing her to think things over completely may ruin everything, but she's not like Wolverine. We can't afford to impair the very abilities she brings to our table…"

Kassandra listened with interest as the woman prevailed.

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Kassandra heard a muffled implosion behind her. "Ach, est ist du, wieder," she said. "_I was wondering when you might turn up_."

"Ich bin hier zu…"

"Ja, Ich weiß, 'Azazel,'" said Kassandra with a wicked grin. _"You are here to claim the scapegoat. There are just a couple of problems with that, however. You just ported into a mutant confinement unit with a fully functional block-wide inhibition system that I have no intention of destroying. Just try to port me out of here against my will."_

So he grabbed a hold of the girl. Nothing happened. His surprise gave Kassandra all the advantage she needed. An elbow to the solar plexus, and then a firmly placed back kick, and he collapsed against the wall.

"_Not surprising." _ Kassandra placed her foot upon the helpless teleporter's stomach, ready to put what weight she could on it if he so much as looked at her wrong, and not altogether pleased at how taking him on without using any mutant abilities was so… easy. _"Idiocy is, after all, the default mode of evil. But if you were a real demon, an inhibition system wouldn't pose any problem. As it is, it's now the least of your concerns. The Devil already claimed me. For reasons that are entirely my own, I belong to Weapon Plus now, _und… WE HAVE AN INTRUDER!" Kassandra screamed.


	28. Chapter 28

Logan smelled something in the mailroom. He couldn't quite figure out why, but he didn't like it. Where was it? Somewhere in the W's? Here it was. Of course, he knew the return address was not real, but there was no mistaking. The Little Elf had written this letter. But who else had handled it before it got here? He sniffed. _Oh, shit!_

"Logan!" The commanding voice sent him spinning, almost involuntarily.

"Oh, uh, hey, 'Ro," said Logan. "I was just-"

"Sniffing through Kurt's mail?" Ororo deftly plucked the letter from Logan's hands. "I see," she said, looking over the return address, before returning it to Kurt's slot. "All the more reason for you to remember that you and I have plans for the evening."

It wouldn't do for Logan to figure out exactly where Kassandra was and what she was up to. But an evening on the town catching _The Boy from Oz _would be just the thing to keep his mind off that. For the time being.

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Kassandra finally had a moment to put pen to paper, and had a hard time deciding what to write. There were some things she felt Kurt should know, including information she didn't want the security personnel reading. And some matters she did not feel comfortable relating. In her first week there, she had subjected a mutant to the indignity of being committed to the block for criminally insane mutants. Well, indignity was putting it mildly. She knew he'd prove to be of no use to the program- and would be eliminated. Sure, he was a delusional, genocidal maniac. But, on the other hand, regardless of what Kurt thought of him, regardless of what Kassandra thought of him, how could she break it to Kurt that his biological father faced an unsanctioned euthanasia because of her, and how even if she could, she doubted she would do a thing to stop it? Even though she had so narrowly avoided the death penalty herself, and the slightest mistake could put her on death row regardless of the court's sentence.

She also helped other "volunteers" make sense of memories she knew and could not say were false implants. She assisted in interrogations, forbidden to intervene when drugs and torture were involved, even when she could anticipate that they'd do no good. Good cop, bad cop- with the good cop being a convicted spy and mass murderer. In the event she'd finally be allowed to set foot in a confessional, she felt for the first time that she might opt for remaining behind the screen. What could she say about all the things Weapon Plus had her doing?

"Mach fest, Kassandra_," _she thought to herself. _"So you're feeling some well-deserved guilt. Neglecting to write Kurt will only compound that."_

She sighed, head in hand, trying to recall the consequences she anticipated before being led back to her own cell, then began to write.

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Kurt had just gotten out of a danger room session with Rachel Grey. Upon discovering that she had never seen any of his favorite movies, he figured the only thing to do was to give her a crash course in the appeal of the swashbuckling adventure genre with his own combat simulation. He was quite pleased to see how she actually got into it and had some fun, so much so, he almost didn't notice just how much he was letting go and enjoying himself, taking on ranks of undead pirates. Oh, _wunderbar! _Rachel had just made quick work of one, and now took on… _Oh mei! _No time to think! She needed help now. Parry, kick, port her out of there, slash the rigging and bury the enemy under their sails. And what's a dramatic rescue without… _einem Moment_, what just happened here?

He and his damsel formerly in distress retreated from that shockingly impulsive lip lock to find Ororo and Logan standing below, Logan biting his tongue against what Kurt knew he was thinking. The woman who'd been an unmitigated source of comfort and consternation of late, and his best friend, dressed up for a date.

At any rate, Kurt didn't feel so great any more. He needed some time to think, about Rachel. The various and numerous reasons why he could not bring himself to kiss her again tore through his mind, making their presence known, yet not allowing him a chance to determine exactly what they were before crowding each other out. He then thought about Ororo and what she appeared to have going on with Logan. He should have been happy for them. He didn't know how to feel. Finally, maybe he would read his mail. Oh_, wunderbar. _A letter from yet another woman complicating his life.

Mein Lieber Kurt,

_Well now that I'm finally settled in, I actually have time to write. First the good news. I am allowed occasional reprieves from the headaches the inhibition system gives me. As it is important to this program to keep certain inmates in reasonably good health, I've been allowed outside every day to run. And this time I have escorts that are in better condition to keep up with me, so I can work on shedding those extra pounds I put on at Red Onion. _Ja, Kurt, _it really doesn't take long for it to show when someone my size hasn't been eating or exercising as well as usual. I also get to interact fairly regularly with other inmates, sometimes in a professional capacity as a counselor. More importantly, I am allowed on occasion to use my powers._

_And because of that, I have been able to continue the work you had me start, piecing together your past. In that, I have also discovered some anomalies within your timeline. The first one disappeared. Suffice to say, I'm positive _der alt Teufel _will never again try to mess around with you or your brothers. However, this other one concerns me very much. I think it has something to do with your improving teleportation, and how I could take you out of time without hurting you. _Liebster, _whatever's causing this will not be easy to deal with. I still can't quite figure out why, but I think Margali and Jimaine may have some explaining to do._

_As for what else has been going on at the Institute- so Jean's not a minute in the grave, I get around to checking in, and I find out Scott's been carrying on with Emma Frost! As if it's not bad enough she's at the Institute to begin with, this all smacks of a Hellfire plot. You know she hated Jean all along, _nicht wahr? _And so she claims no loyalty to the Hellfire Club. I actually believe her there. Most of the Inner Circle is loyal to nobody but themselves, anyway. Okay, _ja, _I am grieving. And furious. Maybe Scott can't help being putty in that manipulative mind-bender's hands, but, well, I'll say no more about that._

_And I am concerned about Sage. She may serve well with the rest of you on the XSE, but that seems to be a limited time offer._

_Finally, _ja, _I know you are not looking forward to your birthday. All the more reason for me to plot something to make it more pleasant. Even though you may not see me and are hopefully beginning to move on with your life, and while I cannot venture to suggest how, I will still continue to serve as some kind of guardian angel for you. _

Dein' immer,

Zeitgeist

Well, that was reassuring. Kind of. Kurt could see Kassandra settling back into the role she was accustomed to having in his life- constant and, with the exception of those last couple weeks he'd had with her, constantly backstage. Life, he felt, would be so much easier if circumstances hadn't removed Kassandra from his embrace. Or if he had just remained celibate, even if it would be for the wrong reasons. But an easy life was not the life for an X-Man. And while he knew he had no reason to feel guilty, that did not make him feel much better.

His communicator beeped, interrupting his thoughts. "Ja?"

"Better get moving, Elf," said Logan. "We got trouble in District X."


	29. Chapter 29

"He's worked with, and even has been linked with, some of the hottest women in superheroics. And yet Nightcrawler remains alone. We explore why and the rumors of his latest heartbreak next, on VH-1's Behind the Heroes…"

Ororo blew into the rec room with an armful of paperwork. "Logan, have you seen Kurt? We've got an assignment just for him."

"Sure, 'Ro. Didn't want to see the rest of his show, so he stepped out to get some air. You might find him out climbing trees or somethin'."

"Good. Thank you, Logan."

Logan watched some commercial shilling some books on the Elf's various exploits, then decided Kurt showed some good sense, leaving. It was fun, watching about his upbringing in the circus, and the times they had when they first joined the X-Men. But Logan could understand all too well Kurt's discomfort over media coverage of his rather convoluted love life. He didn't want to see it, either. They'd talk about Amanda. He never cared for her involvement in that touchy-feely magic stuff. They might mention that Cerise chick that stole the Elf's breath in England. They might mention that Kurt had his golden eyes on Ororo at various points. That idea put Logan on edge. And they most likely would talk about the Little Elf. This separation was not like any of the other times they'd spent apart. Logan knew this time they were both hurting. The Elf was, however, beginning to cope with that. But on the other hand, Logan's nose in the mailroom said Kassandra was not holding up as well, for that… and other reasons. Before his mood could be any further darkened, Logan turned off the television and stepped out.

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The assignment was to investigate a crime, the cold viciousness of which would have turned Kurt's stomach had it not so seriously provoked his sense of justice. Thirteen patients killed in Metro-General's psychiatric unit. Thirteen innocent _children_ killed. And the only one who seemed to have any crisis of conscience about it was Barney Franks, the security guard who somehow just had to take a bathroom break right before it happened. Kurt tried to save him from burning in an apparent spontaneous combustion. Franks pushed him away.

So once again, someone Kurt wanted to save, to protect realized what Kurt never seemed able to even entertain- that he could not save everyone and would only hurt himself- and pushed him away. The familiarity ached liked like a healed fracture before a bad storm.

This left the only remaining witness, Seth Walker, a traumatized child, the sole survivor of the atrocities. He was somehow unwilling or unable to talk. Indeed, the only one who volunteered any help was that night nurse.

Christine. He could like her. And he saw that the feeling was already more than mutual. But she couldn't help with everything. The way Barney Franks had died smacked of something mystical. And Kassandra said that Jimaine needed to explain something to him, anyway, so….

"_Let me guess. You want my help with that little boy,_" said Jimaine/Amanda/Magik/whatever identity she claimed at the moment. Of course she was right as to at least this one reason why Kurt would visit her all of the sudden. He had, up until then, what appeared to be a policy of maintaining a substantial yet amicable distance from this particular ex-girlfriend.

Kurt also understood why Kassandra said Amanda disliked her hypocrisy. They both had their ways of getting people to speak openly without being upfront themselves. So Kurt told her all about Seth Walker, even about the piece of knotted string Christine noticed in his constant grasp. That got Amanda's interest like nothing else. Perhaps this boy had his own secrets to protect- among them that he was the rare variety of mage born with his powers.

"_Now, Kurt, I'll tell you about binding spells, if you'll tell me about…_"

_Oh, nein! _She wasn't going to tease him about his current love life again, was she? She knew about Kassandra, obviously. "_Gehst du nicht dort! _Show some respect to the brokenheartedIf you want to pry, ask about someone who isn't such a 100 pound elephant in the room, _bitte!" _Kurt thought, desperately.

"_… Nurse Palmer, was it?"_

Okay, he could handle that, for now. But perhaps he should establish some new boundary. If he was going to deal with Amanda again, discussing the love life would be off limits from here on out.

Amanda had just seen Kurt off, when the last voice she expected to hear addressed her. _"I know respect for me had nothing to do with it, Jimaine, but thank you for not mentioning me to Kurt."_

"Wie-?"

Kassandra stepped out of the many thick shadows that so filled the sub-infernal realm the woman who once mistook her for a rival now ruled. _"One of our operatives went rogue, so while I'm allowed to use my powers and examine reasons to present as to why my superiors should let her live, I thought I'd send a phase form here to make sure you'd be kind to Kurt. Between you and me, we've both done a number on the poor man, and I just did not want to see any old wounds reopened."_

"Warum bist du hier, wirklich?" Amanda asked, suspicion freezing her voice to near absolute zero. _"You know I'd rather not talk about you, anyway."_

"Das ist wahr wohl." Kassandra nodded. _"However, you had an opportunity to be honest with Kurt about a matter that I can see will put him and a lot of other people dear to him- and you too- in mortal danger, and you couldn't see fit to give him fair warning."_

_"He won't see how it's relevant," _Amanda sniffed._ "You know what it's like trying to warn him of anything. And if it's that important to you, why don't you tell him?"_

_"It's your responsibility. But I'll tell him for you if you want."_

Amanda looked down through half-closed eyes upon the irate wraith. "_You're bluffing. You don't even know what's happening."_

"Oh?" Kassandra stepped forward, glowering. "_Even if I didn't, I see only two more chances for you be honest with Kurt for once in your life without circumstances pushing you to it or someone else blabbing."_

_"And are you going to tell him how you're getting involved, besides calling yourself his 'guardian angel'?" _Amanda demanded, her voice sounding ever more like chips being chiseled off a block of ice.

_"You can check the timestream yourself, _Jimaine," Kassandra seethed. _"And you'll see that the blood of Winzeldorf will be on you hands if you don't tell Kurt, soon, what you have done. A friendly warning for you, not a threat. Now you know how much I'd love to stay here and chat, _aber Ich habe arbeit_."_

Kassandra disappeared. Auf nimmer wiedersehen, thought Amanda, as her Pinot Noir poured another glass of itself for her, and she sat back down with her book.


	30. Chapter 30

Kurt spent a great deal of time up in his room, lately. More than before the events of last week. That might have bothered Logan and Ororo, if not for the fact that in addition to catching up on letters and his journal, he now had so much more to just think about. He, his life, and nearly everyone associated with his past had been targeted for attack by forces no less than supernatural. Of course he'd be the last to know that he was the latest custodian of the Soulsword, a mystical weapon coveted by sorcerers and demons alike. He wondered if Kassandra was okay. He figured she had to be wrapped up in this, somehow, the way a few things happened at just the right time. How Kätchen happened to be available to help Kurt infiltrate that coven, at that exact moment. How he, Ororo, Logan, and Christine were all there in time to witness and prevent a catastrophic subway accident.

But no more time to think. Scott had called Kurt down to the library. Kurt glanced over to his calendar- the Olympic fencing champions calendar Kassandra had miraculously found and sent him for Christmas last year. Sigh. This time of year, he wasn't particularly interested in keeping track of what day it was. _Es muß' das tag sein, nicht wahr?_

"Surprise! Happy birthday…"

Okay, so acting pleasantly surprised wouldn't be so difficult after all. Front and center in that room full of X-Men stood Christine, holding a cake she made, the blaze of candles that Lockheed just lit no match for her smile. She had been through so much with him in only one week, taking on challenges that many mutants and superheroes would balk at, and all without any superpowers of her own. _Aber was ist das? _The singing ended, and everything stopped. Even the flames atop the candles appeared frozen. All was completely still and silent. This looked like an old trick of the Professor's, putting people on pause. Perhaps he'd come to surprise him, too. He followed a low, shuffling sound, the only sound in the mansion, down to one of the parlors. Okay, so maybe this wasn't the Professor, Kurt mused, as he began to hear low notes on a piano. This could be just the sort of trick Kassandra might pull, if she were even allowed, if she even thought it was safe, to turn up at the Institute. Stop time around him, her, and the piano, and give a private, extratemporal recital. It sounded like just the sort of piece he'd enjoy most watching her play anyway. Driving, dramatic, big enough to pose an athletic as well as artistic challenge to her. Perhaps something by Lizst. But it could not be Kassandra, _nicht wahr? _His hair would have prickled with foreboding, even if it weren't so suddenly cold in the hallway. But rather than hesitate, he felt impelled to open that door. And really, it was the only course of action that made sense. He recalled reading something in one of Kassandra's favorite books. When explorers to an uncharted island sighted a dragon that then disappeared, what was it one of them said? "If there's a wasp is in the room I like to be able to see it."

He opened the door, recognizing too late the piece he heard. How strangely appropriate. He brought forth the Soulsword.

The figure in the parlor was not particularly keen on music. But a CD left on the stereo caught his attention. Ah yes, music of that Catholic abbé from nineteenth century Hungary, who, of all people, decided to name some four waltzes after him. Just this once, he might want to hear the pieces that bore his name while he waited.

The door flew open, flung by just the person he intended to see.

"Mephistopheles!"

"Please," he said, rising and turning toward Nightcrawler. "No need to stand on ceremony. Mephisto."

Of course, Mephisto had a deal to make. The boundaries between dimensions were beginning to break down. When the final war would begin, wouldn't it be noble for Kurt to ensure that those near and dear to him were protected? And as an added bonus, Kurt could have his foster-brother Stefan, the tormented subject of so many of his recent nightmares, brought back from the dead. All he had to do was keep out of the battle, keeping the Soulsword in neutral hands determined to strike a blow for neither side.

There were some other things Mephisto said that rankled Kurt even more. Yes, Storm had asked Kurt to investigate the coven that had killed those children. Just where did Ororo get her information?

"Let's just say the so called 'forces of good' can be as manipulative and self-serving as the 'forces of evil,'" said Mephisto.

Suddenly, things came together, making even more, and more alarming, sense. To think that Kurt was only joking when he said Ororo and Kassandra were conspiring together!

"Appalling, isn't it," Mephisto continued, "that you've been doing their dirty work and were given no choice in the matter?"

Wrong! What did Kassandra say? "I always have a choice." Kurt could have begged off. He could have taken a sabbatical. It was always understood that he could back down if he wanted. That he never did, no matter how tempting it was, was a matter of his own choice. And so it would continue to be.

"I'll grant you, in other words," said Mephisto, continuing to ramble about all he'd offer if only Kurt would step aside, "your greatest wish. I can do that. Believe me. I can."

A beautiful right hook to that monopolizing monster's jaw, and Kurt had a chance to make his decision known. The priest mentioned in his homily on Sunday that doubt has its place- when dealing with anyone, anything that demands misplaced trust and shakes true faith. Kurt seethed, fangs bared, tail lashing. "I'd sooner burn in Hell myself than make a deal with you, Mephisto."

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Christine saw Kurt stick around only for a polite sliver of cake before he slipped out.

"Lookin' for someone, kid?"

Only a profound act of self-restraint kept Christine from screaming, half in subconscious expectation of feeling once again adamantium slip between her ribs. Sure, she knew that Logan was in full control of himself now. Not possessed by a Soulsword seeking demon. But she had heard whispers around the Institute that he, not too long ago, broke a friend's arm, and all without any demonic intervention. She hoped he wouldn't take it personally- oh, what the heck, he could probably already smell that she was ill at ease around him. She took a deep, shaky breath. "Uh, yes. Did Kurt leave already?"

"Probably went outside. He's been doin' that a lot lately. Up in his room or outside. Got a lot on his mind, y'know."

"I know. Thanks," said Christine. She poured out some wine in a couple of those plastic party goblets, the ones with the detachable stems, then stepped outside.

Ah, good! Kurt hadn't gone far. She offered him a glass. What she had to say would not be easy. First a harmless icebreaking question. And some jokes about how different they were and how a relationship wouldn't work out. She finally looked into her glass, figuring Kurt would of course prefer a wine far too bold for her taste. "How many times do I have to almost die before I get the message: 'Leave New York'?"

Kurt was dumbfounded. But if there was one thing he learned lately, _carpe diem_ meant never again letting a good woman leave without a proper goodbye. It wasn't as if he hadn't had good practice with that before, anyway.

They both strolled inside.

"Ah, just in time," said Ororo. "We have someone on the phone for you."

"Ich kann nicht sprechen jetzt, Liebster," said the hushed voice on the other end. "_But if you'd like, meet me at Wannabe's tomorrow evening."_


	31. Chapter 31

Kurt was more than a little apprehensive setting foot in the club. Sure, Wannabe's was pretty much the only establishment that didn't cater specifically to mutants where he could more or less blend in. It was more who he was meeting and how he was even able to see her that raised his suspicions. It did not help matters that more than some of the patrons at this superpower themed club were dressed as her. One sidled right up to him dressed in a mauve dress suit, a ratty wig, and a frightful false tan worn in obvious and unsuccessful attempt to make her look darker.

"Great costume! You weren't the Nightcrawler who won the Halloween costume contest, were you?"

"No, I was not."

"Well, your costume is great. I like how you built the tail to move so well," she said, reaching for his hand, "and those gloves are just… how did you do that? "

Kurt started to blush as he pulled away his hand, with a combination of embarrassment and frustration, hoping the dim light would hide the evidence that this girl was seeing his real skin. "Danke schön."

And with hands aflutter and a gasp of delight, the girl whirled away. "Amy, he speaks German, too, with the accent and everything," she squealed to some friend several feet away. "Isn't he perfect?"

"Kommst du mit mir," said a much more familiar voice. She handed him a beer, then tugged his hand and helped him make his escape, leading him back to a booth farthest from both bar and stage.

"So," said Kurt, "kannst du beweisen, dass du die wirkliche Kassandra bist? Weil…"

"Ich kann," said the girl, as they sat down. _"I'd kiss you _hallo_, but that would be awkward so soon after you'd just kissed Christine goodbye, _nicht wahr?"

Kurt blushed, noticing with some relief that Kassandra spoke with no spite. Also, that despite the many things that were taken from Kassandra, the St. Michael medal he gave her still gleamed below her throat. He changed the subject. "So warum bist du hier, und nicht…"

_"And not at that 'undisclosed mutant detention facility'? See 'Carol Danvers' and 'Nick Fury' over there?" _She nodded discretely in their direction. "Nein! Sehst du nicht her! _They are operatives with an assignment they specifically need my help with. I'm here under their strict supervision, and nobody's supposed to know that we're even here. At any rate, I can't blame you for having not followed the news lately."_

"Was?"

"_Most of those convictions could not withstand appeal, and I'm now serving a sort of reduced sentence. At least that's what the news says."_

"Wunderbar!" said Kurt.

"Nicht wirklich. _If word got out who I report to, just what this mutant correctional department is, Logan would be furious." _ She edged closer to Kurt, not for any romantic reason, but to whisper, _"That is exactly what they want, and probably more than you should know._

"So," she said, again in full voice, "War deshalb es ein guter Geburstag?"

Kurt did not quite know what to say. "Ja. _As far as my birthdays go, it wasn't so bad. But you know what happened, _nicht wahr?"

Kassandra nodded. _"And I must admit this time I am a bit jealous."_

"Von Christine?"

"Ja. _But don't you think she deserves it? I mean, while you were under all kinds of attack, she was there for you the whole time…"_

"Aber du war auch, Liebste." Kurt found himself tossing out that term of endearment almost as a matter of habit, a habit he suspected he'd like to keep. "_Don't dismiss what I know you've been doing as my 'guardian angel.'"_

"Kurt," said Kassandra, with no small amount of difficulty, _"Christine was actually with you throughout all this, in just the way you needed, a way I could only wish to have been. That's why I envy her. And I know just because she's moving, it doesn't mean you'll have seen the last of her. _Du wißt das auch, nicht wahr?"

Kurt dropped his head in assent. _"Well, I'm not so sure. If she finds out I lied to her about not liking musicals…"_

Kassandra burst out laughing. _"You should have told her you'd prefer to see Man of La Mancha."_

_"But- but," _Kurt stammered, smiling, _"that would have been unchivalrous."_

_"And so you sat uncomfortably through the Phantom of the Opera to convenience a lady." _Kassandra tried in vain to stifle a wistful, faraway smile and the uncomfortable way her cheeks darkened. "Typisch Kurt."

"Kassandra…" Kurt put his hand on Kassandra's shoulder, not knowing quite what to say.

Kassandra tried to gently shrug off his hand. But it seemed important to him to maintain that simple, friendly contact, so she reconsidered. "Kurt," she said, _"I must confess I also envy you a bit. How you dealt with you-know-who, or didn't, for that matter? You're a far better person than I am. And I know that you will remain strong when that time comes."_

"You sound so certain of that. I suppose you know about all this talk about the Final War and all that?"

Kassandra nodded. _"Classic horror movie tripe."_

_"None of that makes you nervous?" _

_"Mephisto isn't as in the loop as he lets on if he doesn't know. While we're still drawing the battle lines, the war, the Real War, was won a couple millennia ago, remember? As for me, the only thing I'm concerned about is remaining in good standing with the winner."_

"So, warum?" said Kurt, now more than a little upset. _"If the war was already won, why does anyone continue to fight? Why, everything that's happened these past several days?"_

"Kurt, sei ruhig." Kassandra held her hand up, perhaps a little too close to his mouth, and then lowered it. _"The enemy doesn't know, except for their innermost circle, that their war is lost. Those that do know don't care. All they want is to drag as many of us down with them as possible._ Und du_, you will always be like my favorite character in The Last Battle."_

"Ich errinere. _I remember everything now, strangely enough. You like Poggin the Dwarf, and his determination to, if need be, strike a blow for right before all's said and done."_

_"And speaking of that, I got you a present." _Kassandra slipped a small parcel to him. "Ich muß gehen."

"Wartst du," said Kurt, putting his hand on Kassandra's before she could slide out of her seat. _"I also remember never letting you leave without one of these, and I don't plan to start now."_

He pulled her to himself, practically engulfing her in his arms. She returned the embrace, as profound as it was platonic. And all too brief. "Ich muß gehen," she said again, this time looking a little frightened.

"Auf Wiedersehen?" Kurt asked, rather than said.

Kassandra nodded. Then smiled and slipped out.

And as Kurt stepped out, he passed Kassandra at the bar paying her tab. "Nick Fury" sidled up to her. "So are you going to meet her?"

Kassandra coolly looked straight ahead. "They're both in one place. But no, I won't meet them, unless you want this whole thing blown sky high."

"You really shouldn't have said that."

"Let me be the judge of that. You want my help here, or not?"

Kurt tried not to look preoccupied as he slipped past and out the door. It didn't seem to make much sense, and he didn't understand the context, but that snippet of conversation made him more wary for Kassandra than anything he'd ever heard her say before. But he managed to put that out of his mind until he got back to his room and unwrapped the package. It was a book. The pages fell open, and a small laminated card fell out.

"Herr," it said, "wenn deine Leute stilles haben Bedürfnis von meinen Diensten, werde ich die Mühe nicht vermeiden. Dein Wille geschehe. Ich habe den guten Kampf lang genug gekämpft. Noch, wenn du mich bietst, halte weiter die Kampflinie in Verteidigung von deinem Lager, ich nie werden betteln, von Versagenkraft entschuldigt zu werden. Ich werde die Arbeit machen, der du zu mir anvertraust. Währst du befehlen, werde ich unter deinem Banner kämpfen."

He turned the card over. On the other side was a picture of what was supposed to be a Roman cavalry officer, sword in hand, cutting his cloak in half for a beggar in rags. _Heiliger Martin von Tours, natürlich, _the saint on whose feast day Kurt was born. He then turned to the book, a volume of supernatural folk tales from around the world, apparently. Creepy, like the one to which the book had fallen open. His heart leapt to his throat when he realized he had heard it before. An Irish story about Countess Kathleen O'Shea.

The phone rang. Kurt had to climb down from the ceiling to answer. "Ha-hallo?"

"Kurt, are you all right?" It was Christine.

Kurt had to will his breathing, heart rate, his fear itself into submission before he could say anything else. "Ja, Christine. I think I will be, now, thank you. So did you get in okay? How was your flight?"

"I think you'll be relieved to hear it was uneventful. Didn't even get airsick this time," said Christine, her warm smile coming through even over the phone. I just called to let you know I arrived okay, and that you can still reach me on my cell at least until I get a permanent place lined up. But are you sure you're all right? You sounded-"

"A bit shaken, ja. But it had nothing to do with you. I just realized right before you called that an old friend may have gotten into trouble over her head."

"Kassandra?" said Christine, with honest concern. She suspected that Kassandra, besides Storm, was another reason why Kurt balked at getting involved with her. Regardless, it was well known that Kurt was quite upset when Kassandra was found guilty, and Christine could at least respect that. "How could things get any worse for her?"

"I don't know," said Kurt. "I'm not sure I want to know. But I am sure that she could and probably has figured out how."

"Well, based on the sound of things," said Christine, "I'm half tempted to almost consider booking a flight back to New York."

Kurt began to smile again over the next several minutes they talked. One thing that came to mind most when he thought about Christine was how she, like a few other people he'd been blessed to know, had earned a lifelong place among his dearest friends. So he could not regard her as a girlfriend. So their relationship took a course away from that before it could really even begin. But friendships like that did not end. Not with last-ditch kisses goodbye, nor even with a fib about disliking musicals.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 1

Ich hat ein wunderbar Abend. Ich enttäusche dich nicht gern, aber- I had a wonderful evening. I hate to disappoint you, but-

Kurt, gehst du raus!- Kurt, you get out!

Chapter 2

So, also das ist die Stewardeß über die du immer sprichst.- So, this is the stewardess you always talk about.

Mir ist's recht, Kurt. Ich spreche auch Deutsch. Und du mußt Kurts guter Freund Kassandra sein.  
- It's all right, Kurt. I also speak German. And you must be Kurt's good friend Kassandra.

Macht nichts- Never mind. Literally, make nothing.  
Sei unbesorgt- Don't worry.

Dort wollen wir niedersinken unter dem Palmenbaum, und Lieb und Ruhe trinken, und träume seligen Traum. -  
From the Heinrich Heine poem "Auf Flügeln des Gesanges." - There we will sink below under the palm trees, and drink love and peace, and dream calm dreams. I know, the translation does not do the poetry justice.

Chapter 3

Guten Morgen, Kassi. Es ist halb elf, und du brauchst Frühstück, nicht wahr?- Good morning, Kassi. It is 10:30 (literally "half eleven"), and you need breakfast, right?

Nein, ich hab nicht Dich belogen.- No, I have not lied to you.  
Werde ich- I will.  
Heute, beim Frühstück- Today, at breakfast.

Mein Arm ist in Ordnung. Aber es geht mir nicht so gut.- My arm is fine. But it's not going so well for me.

Warum?- Why?  
und wir werden für dich beten- and we will pray for you.

Chapter 5

Ist es für dich grade günstig?- Is it convenient for you?  
Und jetzt bist Du enttäuscht von mir oder?- (roughly) And now are you disappointed with me, or what?

Aber Kopf hoch- literally, but head high. Chin up. That sort of thing.  
Ich bin so müde- I am so tired.  
Wirklich?- Really?  
Ich auch- literally, I also. Me too.  
Für jetzt, gute nacht.- For now, good night.  
Ich liebe dich noch immer.- I still love you.

Chapter 6

und die Kinder sind so süß- and the children are so sweet.  
Er hat nur Tourette's.- He only has Tourette's.  
Das arme Kind.- The poor kid.  
So weit, so gut.- So far, so good.  
Aber wir schweifen ab.- But we digress.  
Ich kann es kaum erwarten.- I can hardly wait.  
Und du brauchst es nicht- And you don't need to.

Wielleicht später. Im Moment ist alles was ich will ein guter Film, eine Flasche Zinfandel, und dich. Aber, besonders dich. - Maybe later. At the moment, all I want is a good film, a bottle of Zinfandel, and you. Especially you. (Corny enough?)

Ebensogut, moderne Freibeuterin oder Piratin, du bist immer noch die selbe alte Zeitgeist, nicht wahr? - Even so, modern privateer (literally, freebooter) or pirate, you are still the same old Zeitgeist, right?

im Ernst- seriously

And for that bit of French:

non, merci - no thank you  
tres indiscrete- very indiscreet  
en flagrant delit- roughly, red-handed  
sottises- shenanigans

And now back to our regularly scheduled German translations:

Und hier kommt mein Lieblingsteil.- And here comes my favorite part.  
Das is auch meiner. Bist du bereit?- That's also mine. Are you ready?  
Herr Wolfingham und seine Handlangere haben nie so gekämpft!- Lord Wolfingham and his henchmen have never fought like this!  
Sie haben auch nie gegen eine so schöne Gegnerin gekämpft.- They also have never fought so lovely an opponent.

Chapter 7

MACH SCHNELL!- HURRY!  
Gott steh mir bei- roughly, God help me.  
Solche Feiglinge!- Such cowards!

Chapter 8

Ich muß zugeben- I must admit

Jesus sagte, 'Kommt alle zu mir, die ihr euch plagt und schwere Lasten zu tragen habt. Ich werde euch Ruhe verschaffen.'- Jesus said, 'Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest.'

Chapter 9

Geliebte- beloved  
wenn wollst du- if you want  
In Jesus Namen, hau ab!- In Jesus' name, get out!  
Ach, fahr zur Hölle!- Oh, go to Hell.

Chapter 10

Ich hoffe das hilft dir- I hope that helps you.

Wir lieben dich, und die Kinder beten täglich für ihre Tante Kassi.- We love you, and the kids pray every day for their Aunt Kassi.

Chapter 11

Kurt, kommst du mit mir, bitte.- Kurt, come with me, please.  
Ich bin hier um dich zu warnen.- I am here to warn you.  
Rotsnaze!- literally means "red nose." Commonly used for "snot-nosed brat"  
HÄNDE WEG!- HANDS OFF!  
Gott ist nicht hier, Fraulein. Nicht in meinem Haus. Wilkommen in der Hölle.- God is not here. Not in my house. Welcome to Hell.

Chapter 12

Auf nimmer wiedersehen!- roughly, may we never meet again.

Chapter 13

Ich konnte sie nicht alle retten- I could not save them all.

Chapter 14

Ich habe mich so gesorgt.- I've been so worried.  
Kassi, du weinst doch nicht etwa, oder?- Roughly, "Kassi, you're not crying, are you?"  
Wie viele- how many  
den alten Teufel- the old devil  
Wer ist das?- Who is that?  
Gott bewahre.- Roughly, God preserve us. Used in the same context as "God forbid!"

' Ein Vater der Waisen, ein Anwalt der Witwen ist Gott in seiner heiligen Wohnung.'- Psalm 68:5  
"A father to the fatherless and a defender of widows is God in His holy dwelling."

Romans 8:15- For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, "Abba! Father!"

Chapter 18

Nette Außicht- Nice view  
Gottes Wille geschehe- God's will be done.

Wir waren uns alle dessen bewußt.- Roughly, we were all aware of this.

Deine Mutter ist stärker als meine- Your mother is stronger than mine.

Chapter 19

raus mit ihnen, jetzt! - out with them, now!  
Wie sind wir hier gekommen?- roughly, how are we getting here?  
Das ist gut so, aber die anderen?- That's okay, but the others?  
Ich wiße nicht, Liebste- I don't know, dear.

Chapter 20

Hätte ich auch nicht gedacht- I'd also didn't think so.  
Das ist mein Mädchen!- That's my girl!  
Du wißt, ich kann nicht dir verlaßen jetzt- You know, I can't leave you now.

Chapter 21

Ach, das ist lächerlich- Oh, that is ridiculous.

Chapter 23

Bist du still wach?- Are you still awake?  
Ich kann nicht schlafen- I can't sleep.

Ugogo- grandmother. In Kassandra's case, her maternal grandmother. While Zulu society is very partriarchal, a grandmother's word is practically law.

lobola- another Zulu term for dowry

Während sie still kann- While she still can  
Vergeben mir- forgive me

Chapter 24

Warum bemühst du. Dein leben, wie du es kennst, ist irgenwie vorbei. -  
Why do you bother. Your life, as you know it, is over anyway.

Gott, mein Kopf tut mir weh. - God, my head hurts.  
Kassandra, wartst du- Kassandra, wait  
Aber, warum sind wir hier?- But why are we here?  
aber du willst, Liebster, beizeiten- but you will, dear, in good time.

Chapter 26

Oh, iNkosi- (Zulu) Oh, God

Ich verstehe. Das ist nicht notwendigerweise beßer, nicht wahr?- I understand. That is not necessarily better, right?

Vielleicht beßer. Aber nur ein Bißchen.- Maybe better. But only a little.

Chapter 27

Linderung, endlich!- Relief, finally!  
Ich bin hier zu… - I am here to...  
Ja, Ich weiß- Yes, I know

Chapter 28

Mach fest- roughly, "steady"

Chapter 29

Gehst du nicht dort! - Don't go there!  
Warum bist du hier, wirklich?- Why are you here, really?  
aber Ich habe arbeit- but I have work

Chapter 30

The book quoted is The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by CS Lewis. And of course the savvy reader will note that I've quoted extensively from Nightcrawler 12.

And now for translations:

Es muß' das tag sein, nicht wahr? - It must be that day, right?  
Ich kann nicht sprechen jetzt, Liebster- I can't talk now, dear.

Chapter 31

kannst du beweisen, dass du die wirkliche Kassandra bist? Weil…- can you prove that you are the real Kassandra? Because...

Nein! Sehst du nicht her! No! Don't look!  
war deshalb es ein guter Geburstag? Was it a good birthday?  
Aber du war auch, Liebste- but you were also, dear  
Du wißt das auch, nicht wahr? You know that, right?  
Typisch Kurt. Typical Kurt  
sei ruhig- roughly, relax  
Ich errinere. I remember  
Ich muß gehen. I must go.

The Last Battle is the final book in the Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis.

The Prayer of Saint Martin of Tours

Lord, if your people still have need of my services, I will not avoid the toil. Your will be done. I have fought the good fight long enough. Yet if you bid me continue to hold the battle line in defense of your camp, I will never beg to be excused from failing strength. I will do the work you entrust to me. While you command, I will fight beneath your banner.

Countess Kathleen O'Shea, according to legend, made a deal with the devil to ensure that her subjects would neither starve amid famine, nor sell their souls for food. According to the story as written by WB Yeates, however, the devil was never able to collect on the deal.


End file.
